Riffs & Canvas
by Another Lone Ranger
Summary: AU: Aoshi is a city kid thrown into the mix of suburbia. Misao is a rich girl with issues to spare. It's said musicians and artists have friction, but when these two meet, they give new definition to the phrase! (Complete)
1. Chapter 1: The Artist and the Musician

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A/N: Here's a new story I'm starting. It won't be that long. I was finally inspired to write something and it won't be a great endeavor. Never fear--updates are coming!

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Summary: Aoshi is a kid from the streets. The city is what he's always known and he was content with his lot in life. That was until he was sent to live with his estranged grandfather to finish high school. Now, he's the new kid. All anyone knows is that he's distant, unrelenting, and dangerous. A mix like that who has no place in this no-nonsense town. But he's not all bad. A talented musician, Aoshi wants to be in this town no more then they want him there. Misao is from a picturesque background, but she has secrets that no one sees and scars no one can ever know. A social misfit, Misao is often picked on for having a 'perfect life'. Her only escape is in her schoolwork, and her artwork. In order to retain a scholarship to her dream art school, Misao has to become involved with a tutoring program at school--with Aoshi as her star trainee. Unable to escape one another, or the eyes of the populace, the town's two biggest outcasts might just join forces, if they don't kill each other first.

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Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Rurouni Kenshin Characters, but I'd like to!

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Riffs and Canvas

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Chapter 1: The Artist and the Musician

The high school looked like any other suburban high school. It was a brick building, two floors high, with small windows and a large flag waving boldly out on the front lawn. The pathway was landscaped with flowers and trees, as if they could distract the students or staff from the highways on all sides of the building. There was a mini mall and a diner and parking lot as far as the eye could see, the picturesque scene for the average suburban teenager. And there were a lot of average suburban teenagers swarming all over the school yard. Monday morning, the first day of spring quarter.

As Aoshi looked up at the daunting sight, he felt a shiver works it way down his back. Not a shiver of fear, or warning--having come from the city streets, he knew those feelings well--it was a shiver of revulsion. Pure, undiluted condescension. That anyone could actually like such a place as this, with it's cheery administration and smiley faced bummer stickers on the student's car bummers that gave their support of all school activities. It made him want to vomit at the sight.

This was his life now. This was what he had to look forward to everyday for the rest of teenage career. Granted, it was only until the end of the next quarter, but five months was a hell of a long time to Aoshi at that moment. 

What had he done to deserve this? Truly, he wanted to know. One moment, he was living life as usual. Working two part-time jobs in order to keep rent, going to school every day--rain or shine--, and even hanging out with his gang the first moment he had time. Now he was thrown into this sickening mixture of Abercrombie and sunshine. 

He clenched his hands into fists, forcing himself to take those harsh first steps away from his fully restored black Mazda M-3. It was painful mostly because that car was the last thing that kept him from feeling totally immersed in this foreign world. Sure enough, little by little, he was able to make his way across the parking lot and toward the leering entrance of the building. Tucking his hands into the deep pockets of his gray trench coat, Aoshi kept his head down, hoping to get by without a second glance. Unfortunately, he stuck out like a sore thumb.

"Just as well," he thought to himself glumly. He had to find his way to the main office to pick up a schedule. His grandfather had made the arrangements the day before, so everything would be shiny and new, waiting to try and induct him into a new environment that would surely try to strip him of all original thought and individuality. Everything that he had fought so hard to keep back in his world, when fighting meant getting down to brass tacks and kicking ass in an alleyway after the last bell. All of it would be gone in a few months' time.

This was all his mother's fault, he thought angrily. His black leather boots hit the pavement a little harder when he thought of the woman. He squared his shoulders and the collar of his trench coat seemed to mask the entire bottom portion of his face. It made him look all the more menacing. It was just a reflex for Aoshi, to look dangerous when brooding, to ward of any potential threats--or maybe invoke a few so he could fight out his anger. In this world, everyone seemed to sense his vibe and shiver as he walked passed. A few looked up, but they all quickly looked away. It seemed that manners were as good as the name brands in this school. That only pissed him off.

Yes, it was all his mother's fault. If she hadn't of gone off on a bender with her boyfriend last week, none of this shit would have happened. 

All because she was turned down again. When was she going to deal with the fact that the music industry is not looking for a middle aged pop star no matter how good she could sing. And she could sing. It was the only thing Aiko had ever been good at. For all her thirty-four years--even though she said she was still twenty--Aiko had never held a job, never held a man, and had never been a mother to her nearly-grown son. 

She got pregnant one night, at sixteen. It was no big surprise to anyone who knew her. Aiko was notoriously loose and even more notoriously careless. She didn't remember who the father was, or she didn't care. Either way, Aoshi never knew. Either way, Aoshi didn't care. In some ways, if a child has a shitty life, he'll use the old 'my father will come get me one day' line to piss off his mother. Fact was, his father probably didn't know he existed. Or he didn't care. Aoshi grew up a long time ago.

He couldn't say that he hated his mother--because he didn't. He couldn't say that he loved her either--because he didn't feel that either. Aiko was his mother, and that was the only reason he had stayed with her all this time. Since the time he was fifteen, and old enough to get a part-time job, he had been working to get rent money. He had bought the groceries; he had cooked the meals and did the dishes; he had been the adult. All the while, his mother had drunken or snorted or smoked or shot herself in oblivion until the next loser came home with her from happy hour and promised to make her a star. Then she'd say the same thing to Aoshi.

"Just wait, baby. This will be the start of a whole new life for us." 

Then it would fall through and Aoshi would be the one to clean up the mess. After the first few years, he learned not to get his hopes up. There was still that secret part of him that had always hoped she would get a record deal. Then she could go off and live in a Malibu house, shoot all her record money into her arm, and die a happy death. He would stay in the city, graduate high school, and get the hell out of there. Now, all his 'dreams' were shot to hell.

Aiko and boyfriend #765--not that Aoshi had ever kept count--had been turned down and went out. They got piss drunk and tried to drive themselves home. That was when a little physics hit them in the face in the form of a huge telephone pole. Luckily, they didn't hurt anyone but themselves. Unfortunately, both of them had former offensives in the form of drugs or DUIs. Aiko was now in lock-down at a minimum security prison upstate for the next year and boyfriend #765 was only God knows where.

Aoshi, five months from graduating high school and one month from turning eighteen, was sent to live with his estranged grandfather until after graduation. Two hour's ride from the city, his city, Aoshi was now stuck in some kind of nineties time warp, where everyone was happy and clean-cut. While his gang stayed in the city to fulfill their dream of being the first in their neighborhood to get out into the real world, he was stuck somewhere unfamiliar and sunny! It was official. Aoshi's life was Hell.

Sure, his grandfather was cool. A crazy old man named Okina who owned a restaurant in the nearby town, but that didn't mean Aoshi was going to 'take to the place like a duck to water'. Far from it, old man. Aoshi was going to fight this tooth and nail, and there was nothing anyone could do to convince him otherwise.

He skulked inside the school building, black hair falling into blue eyes as he scanned the passing doorways for the main office. Aoshi was beginning to feel out of place now, with the long trench coat and the black shirt and jeans beneath. The black backpack he carried didn't exactly offset his color pattern. All around him he was surrounded by violet and silver, blues and greens, school colors. Colors worn proudly by staff, administration, and students alike. Something he would never do. The looks he was receiving made him feel as though he should.

"Damn," he thought. "I'm already being told to conform and I haven't even gone to class yet!" 

Finally, he made it to the office. As soon as the door closed behind him--with a jingle from the bell on the door--everyone stopped what they were doing to openly stare at him. Oh yes, this would starting out to be a wonderful change in scenery. 

"Excuse me," he said politely in a low voice. "I'm Aoshi Shinamori, I just transferred here."

"Ah, yes!" one of the office women squealed. Her auburn hair fell into her eyes as she dug through a few papers on one of the desks and came up with a manila folder. "The new guy." Aoshi winced internally at the title. 

"Go easy on the boy Yumi," one of the men at the coffee pot said. "He's not from around here." Aoshi's eye flickered toward the speaker, a tall, lean man with a coffee cup in his hand and a cigarette dangling from his bottom lip. He seemed to be half in shadow, and was quite happy to stay there. Aoshi looked away, losing interest. 

"Go to hell Saitou," Yumi huffed. Without her previous enthusiasm, she shoved a schedule and a pass book at Aoshi. "The rooms are marked on the paper, there's a map too in you get lost."

Aoshi retrieved the offered items, shoving the pass book into his backpack. "Thank you," he said, making his leave.

"No problem, hot stuff," Yumi said with a flirty wink at him. Aoshi waited until he was outside before rolling his eyes. 

It was nothing new for women--even older women--to hit on him. It there was one thing he could credit to his father, he must have been an attractive fellow, because his son was drop-dead-gorgeous, with none of the features of his mother. She was small and dark, with mud-brown hair and matching eyes. She had a pretty face, but it was a different pretty then most. Aoshi was tall, nearing six three and still going, with black hair and crystal blue eyes. Ice blue. The only thing that mother and son shared was their mutual love of music. It was the only thing that bound them--the only thing about Aoshi his mother actually approved of.

The third morning bell had rung. As Aoshi looked around, he saw that the halls were deserted, devoid of students. It was almost scary. In his old school, bells were an annoyance and nothing more. There were kids would stayed in the hallways all day without ever going to class. That was just the way things were in an inner city school. No one really cared, as long as no one was jumped or killed on school property, and vandalism was at a minimum. Aoshi was used to that. This would take a while.

He looked at the papers, the map and the schedule. There weren't many senior classes still open at this time of year, but he was lucky enough to get into almost everything he wanted. The paper seemed dominated by band or vocal classes. By law, he had to take an English class, and the only one open was an AP course--the hardest in the school. Aoshi was a brilliant guy, but English was not his thing. He was a musician, good with numbers and biology. He was not good with things written by men who had died before the eighteenth century! He had that class last period, so he was thankful of that.

First off, he was in a vocal class. Just his luck, it was on the other side of the school. Following the badly drawn-up map, Aoshi set off to find his new class. The school was a labyrinth of twists and turns, hills and stairs. There was one point where he had to cut across a courtyard and was locked out until a teacher opened the door and set him on a straight path. Just when he thought he was home free, he had to take another staircase and sharp left. Just his luck, while turning that corner, he walked into someone and ended up becoming personally acquainted with the floor.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Misao had been late for school that morning. It wasn't her fault really, it just took her a long time to find her jacket. The faded jean one. The one she wore every time she couldn't leave the house with a tee-shirt. Her father had been yelling at her the entire time she looked. Why didn't she clean her sty of a room? Why couldn't she pretend to have a brain? Why couldn't she just get out of the house? It was her morning ritual. Her father followed her through the house with a bowl of cheerios in hand, yelling as she went. Their house was large, a three floored Greek revival. Stunning really. Testament to their wealth. Misao never noticed. 

She took the verbal abuse, words that used to make her feel three inches tall rather then five, three. She stuffed her sketch books, her pencils, her dried brushes, and her grabbed her fresh canvas as she went, stuffing in into her large black leather side bag. The canvas was too big, she just put it in the back seat of her car. Her father, wearing his red bathrobe, in nothing but boxers and socks, followed her outside with his cereal as she loaded her broken-down black pick-up truck. The neighbors all hurried back into their houses when the scene began. It was this way almost every morning. 

Misao went back into the house, grabbing her backpack from her bed. She paused just long enough to brush out her hip-long black hair, plait it in one long braid, and stuff it beneath a black and red bandana. Her father was in the doorway of her room. Why can't you wear something appropriate? What's with this penis envy where you have to dress like a man? Why can't you do anything right?

She grabbed up her backpack again and walked passed him. She was down the stairs and out the door before he could catch up with her. Misao took her key ring from where it had been clipped to one of the loops on her jeans, and started her car. She put on her sunglasses with the mirrored shades and backed out of the driveway as fast as the screeching tires could carry her. It didn't occur to her that she left without breakfast, or that she had forgotten to feed her pet boa constrictor. She'd remember to feed Seraphim that afternoon, when her father was at work and the house would be quiet.

While driving, she put a cd into the player of her truck and cranked up the music as loud as it could possibly go. The rock song playing pulsed in her ears, making the entire vehicle vibrate. It didn't matter that she might break the speakers--or even the windows. She just needed to drown out the voice still yelling in her head. No matter where she went, Misao could never escape her father's voice. 

Misao took the long way to school that morning, arriving just in time for the last bell. She got to her first art class with a second to spare. As a senior, her schedule was almost completely art courses. the only others she had was a literature class and AP English. She was a child of vision. A girl who escaped into the written word as fast as she could into the flow of a piece of art. That was why she loved painting, drawing, writing...anything that could take her somewhere far from the present. 

When she entered the room, she pulled off her glasses, hooking them into the front pocket of her jacket. A few people looked up, but no one was surprised by her entrance. Misao was a notorious rule breaker. She came from the best of backgrounds, good breeding and an upstanding politician was her father. It wasn't his fault that his daughter was a delinquent. They always say greatness skips a generation. That's all Misao was, a bad apple, a social misfit.

The teacher greeted her with a smile. The teachers liked Misao. She was a hard worker, an A pupil in every class. She was a loner, fairly withdrawn, distant to most of the other students, but she was bright and talented. When she was around art, talking about art, or being told about art, Misao's eyes would light up and she would become so animated and happy you could hardly believe that she was the same child who sat alone in the back of the class, doodling in a notebook.

It wasn't that she didn't draw her share of attention, that she wasn't pretty. She was in fact, very pretty. She took after her late mother in that respect. But she would be so much prettier if she smiled once in a while, if she wasn't always wearing baggy clothing and covering her hair. It was often thought she acted and looked like she did to keep people away--especially guys. They didn't know for sure, but that was exactly her reason. That among other things.

The class was called to session, attendance was taken, and assignments were assigned. To most of the students, there began working on sketches or sculptures. It was the beginning of a new term, so the first week was always a free-for-all. The teachers liked to let the kids get some things out of their systems before buckling down for serious work.

The teacher for this class, one Miss Tae, was particularly fond of Misao. She knew the girl had such talent and potential pent up in that small frame of hers, and she was always giving Misao a new way to vent it. She always worried for the girl. As Misao got older, she noticed that she became more and more volatile. If anyone bothered her, Misao could become almost violently angry. It was a mystery to everyone, this enigma named Misao. The only time she ever seemed remotely happy was when she was painting.

"All right Misao," Miss Tae said with a mischievous smile. "For today, I have an important mission for you to accomplish!" Misao looked indifferently as the paint brushes and small palette laid out before her on the table. "It's come to my attention that the hallway to the music wing in the school is rather drab." Misao picked up three brushes of various lengths, a soft lead pencil, and a small jar of black paint. She was reading Tae's mind. "I want you to create a mural for me. Can you do it, Misao?"

"Of course," she said, looking up at the teacher with a light in her green eyes. A faint flicker, but a light none the less.

"Good!" Tae said happily. "You have a double period with me, so just keep working until third."

"Okay," Misao replied, taking her supplies and her side bag with her as she went toward the music hallway. Once there, she set up as usual, brushes and paint on the floor, pencil in hand. First she took the headphones of her cd player from the side bag still slung over her shoulder. Adjusting them to her ears and hitting play, Misao began to draw on the wall along to the rhythm in her ears.

For a while, she sketched in peace. Her arm moving in arches and circles and lines, forming and creating, giving birth to a new scene. The wall was her canvas, open and fresh. Unspoiled and untouched. In the perfect, that empty space of an open canvas. That breath just before an artist began to create, it was like the first breath of life into a newborn. Something special and unique and sacred. And every time Misao got to start a new canvas, she felt the pain and weight lift from her shoulders for a little while and she was taken far from this place of woe and strife. She was simply Misao, without ties or strings, without reputation or rumor.

That was just before she was knocked off her feet by someone coming sharply around the corner.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"What the hell?!" yelped Aoshi, quickly pushing away from the floor, where he had fallen face first. He scrambled to his knees and looked around to see who or what he collided with. He found his answer in the form of a small figure on the floor next to him. Huddled into a ball of denim and black, was a girl. "Are you...all right?" Aoshi asked grimly, ready to chew her out as soon as she quit faking mortal injury.

When she unfolded from her ball, the girl leapt to her feet in a smooth motion, looking at the wall. Aoshi followed her eyes. Amid the faint lines and shapes, there was now a long, dark, jagged and ugly pencil line down the very center of the wall. "My mural," he heard her whisper faintly. The she turned on him.

Aoshi was suddenly faced with the angriest pair of green eyes he had ever seen. This girl who was a good foot his junior, grabbed the lapels of his trench coat and dragged him to his feet. Even towering over her, she still glared daggers at him. "You ruined my mural!" she yelled at him suddenly.

"It's a pencil line," Aoshi said with annoyance. "Erase it."

"It's in the center of my WORK!" she yelled. Suddenly, the first period bell rang behind them. The halls were crowded with students on their hustle and bustle way to class. Smack in the middle of the hallway was Misao and Aoshi, staring each other down.

"It's just a drawing," Aoshi ground out through his teeth. This...this...girl...was starting to make him angry. She was small, too small to be picking a fight with him, especially when she was so far down the pity track as he was just then. 

"Just a drawing?" Misao stuttered in her anger. "JUST A DRAWING?!?" They had suddenly acquired an audience. From where, neither knew or cared. All they did was let loose anger and frustration and loathing on each other. Misao suddenly whipped around, ripping the askew bandana from her head. Her braid fell down her back as she picked up the small jar of black paint. "Here, this matches your wardrobe," Misao hissed, suddenly splashing him with a coat of paint.

"You BITCH!" Aoshi yelled, looking down at his stained coat. That was his favorite coat! All over a stupid picture on the wall? The more devious and vengeful part of Aoshi's mind worked lightning quick in thinking up a revenge, a suitable revenge that is. He ran a hand over his chest, making sure to get a good pool of paint, then he smeared it down the front of her jacket. There was suddenly a general gasp from all on-lookers.

This was when the teachers arrived to break them up. Without so much as a chance to throw another insult at each other, both Misao and Aoshi were hauled off together to the principle's office. The spring quarter started with a bang.


	2. Chapter 2: Punishment, Tastes Like Chick...

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A/N: Here were are, chapter two. Like I said, this won't be that long of a story. I've just been hit with writer's block so hard that it hurts right now, and I thought writing something small and pointless would help me clear my head. So you all know--Wanders is once again on hold. It's just so hard for me to write that now. Everything that comes out is just so horrible. I won't give up on it though! I vow to finish it one day. As for Tainted Blood, my other open story, Chapter 14 is with my beta and should be uploaded soon. I don't think I'll get any updates out tomorrow since it's my birthday *yay me!* Oh, please remember everyone that this is an AU story, so the characters will be OOC! Enjoy chapter 2.

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Riffs and Canvas

Chapter 2: Punishment, Tastes Like Chicken

The principle's office waiting room was cold and formal. It seemed devoid of humanity, not to mention personality, and was painted with that same sickly-white color that all school offices seemed to be painted in since the beginning of time. Everyone was convinced it was titled 'school hallway white.' In this waiting room, just outside of the office where the principle was currently interrogating the teacher who had broken up the 'paint fight' in the hallway, sat Aoshi and Misao. One was on either side of the room.

Aoshi fidgeted a little. Every second that went by with him sitting there was another second the paint had to dry and came closer to forever staining his favorite coat. He looked up suddenly, blue eyes fixed rigidly upon Misao's form. She was paying no attention to him whatsoever. Her hair was once more shoved beneath her bandana and her head bounced slightly along with the song that was pounding from the headphones were back on her ears. It seemed to Aoshi that she had been here before and either knew the drill, or didn't care. He didn't care one way or the other.

What he did care about was how brazen she seemed after being freshly doused by black paint. There was a long hand-shaped streak running down the front of her denim jacket, but she looked as if she had not a care in the world. Had he done a similar stunt to any of the girls he knew back in the city--or any of the one around here for the same matter--they would either be in tears by now, or gouging out his eyes when no one was looking. It made him edgy that this girl wasn't doing anything expected. Aoshi would never admit it to himself or anyone else, but he was intrigued by the fact that she was behaving unpredictably. An odd combination that left him irritated and interested at once. 

It also didn't help that she was easy on the eyes. If she wasn't so tyrannical, one might even call her pretty. Long legs clad in denim, long fingers that gave her hands an elegant look. Her skin was pale, offsetting her bright eyes and dark hair. He had only glimpsed her hair before she dumped the paint on him, but it looked to be long and black. Now it was hidden, along with her eyes, in a mixture of bagging clothing and black paint. There was a smudge of it on her upturned nose. It made her look somewhat young, like those kids who finger painted in elementary school and always covered themselves from head to toe in the stuff. She looked up at him once or twice--at least he thought she didn't because her head turned up, even if he couldn't see her eyes. It made him a little uneasy so he looked away and pretended not to notice.

Still, his mind once more began to dwell on the sudden destruction of his most beloved coat. He could take on a rival gang, fight six guys all on his own, but when faced with the potential death of his coat, he was utterly helpless. 

A sudden movement caught the corner of his eye. The girl, whose name he still did not know, had put on a pair of sunglasses and was riffling around in her bag. He watched her pull out a sketch pad and what looked like a sharpened pencil. Then she began scribbling on the paper furiously. Aoshi turned away undaunted, but annoyed. _Artists_…he thought with distain. _They're all tortured and tormented. How could anyone draw at a time like this?_

That was an easy one, she could. 

Why? He didn't know. 

And you know what? He didn't care.

Know something else? 

That was only because he kept telling himself. 

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For a long while, Misao did nothing but sit in the puke-colored room and simply listen to her headphones while waiting for the principle to come out and give her detention. It had happened before, chances were it would happen again. She just tried to calm the churning in her stomach and silently prayed that he wouldn't call her father. That was really the last thing she needed. 

For another minute, she contemplated apologizing to the boy for her actions in the hall. He caught her on a bad day and accidentally wreaked the mural she was really starting to like. It hadn't really been his fault, but she needed to vent sometimes. He seemed like a good victim at the time. Noticing the large black streak over her jacket, she thought maybe her actions had been a bit hasty. One look over at him convinced her otherwise, however. He looked two seconds away from punching through the wall.

Even as brooding and dangerous as he looked just then, Misao was struck by his appearance. In the hall, she hadn't really noticed. He was tall, yeah, but she had been too hurt and enraged to notice much else about him. Now she had a good look at him, and she what she saw was favorable. 

He was new--he had to be because she had never seen him around school and Misao had been mocked or talked about by just about everyone by now. Most of the students here had lived in the neighborhood their entire lives. It was odd to have a new face, but at the same time, Misao was glad for it. Had she pulled a stunt like that with anyone from around here, he would have gone to her father so fast her head would have spun. That would have left her with a whole new list of problems.

Misao was not the kind of girl to lose herself over any guy, even a really hot guy, but she could freely admit that this guy, the one she had assaulted, was a really hot guy. Now, with that established, she quickly went into action. She put on her sunglasses like this morning, but this time it was to disguise her eye movements. Digging out her sketch pad and a pencil, Misao began to draw him.

_Another good thing about him being new_, Misao thought to herself with her tongue between her teeth in concentration. _I could ass this drawing to the wall in the studio and Dad will never know. He'll just think it's another nameless 'pretty boy' actor like Johnny Depp or Keanu Reeves_. It was rare for Misao to use a real model in her work because her father went through her pads on a daily basis. Drawing a person he knew or recognized was not worth the outcome to Misao. Even though, she still loved real models over pictures from magazines. There was just something magical to her about capturing a person in front of up on paper, some inner thrill that made her fell alive.

Her pencil flew across the paper, outlining and shaping, filling in positive space and negative space. It was actually turning out to be a good likeness, an etching that would lovingly be placed on the wall, until the office door opened and two people emerged. The first was the teacher who had broken up the fight--a senior math teacher Misao had no recollection of--and Principle Hiko. Misao quickly switched off her music and stuffed her things into her side bag before anyone saw. Principle Hiko looked at Aoshi, then to Misao. He came over to her.

The principle was a tall and imposing man with a short temper and a long list of grievances. For one, he didn't want to be in this school, or this town, or even this country, but like so many things in his life, he was trapped in this on place. Not that he was unkind to any student, he was just easy to tick off. Misao, whose father was responsible for Hiko's main grievance, was no exception from his wrath. 

"Miss Makimachi, why am I not surprised?" Hiko grumbled when he stood over her. He looked down his nose to see the small girl looking back at him through mirrored-lenses.

"Principle Hiko!" Misao said in a sugary sweet voice that warned of trouble. "Is that a new hair cut?"

The principle scowled and pointed and imposing finger toward the open door of his office. "My office," he said sourly. "_Now_." Misao took off her glasses and gracefully got to her feet, making to follow the principle to his office. On a whim, she turned to look over at her victim but found that he was gone. 

Mildly disappointed, Misao fell into the familiar chair in front of Hiko's imposing desk with a sigh. She looked across the top at the principle with a level stare that normally only came from grown men in their forties who spent their time around business sharks. It unnerved many adults when a child looked at them with such open expressions of wit and worldly knowledge. Hiko was not intimidated.

"Do you do this purposely to come see me?" he asked. "You could always make an appointment, Misao."

"And miss the chance to spend our time of punishment together?" Misao said with sarcasm thick in her voice. Hiko was one of the only adults she spoke candid with. The only other was the owner of the restaurant where Misao worked. 

"Don't piss me off today," he warned. "I'm not ready for this from you yet. First day back to school for the new quarter and you're already making trouble?" Misao looked away, feeling the heat rise in her face and wishing to suddenly combust in a world of flames.

"It was a spur of the moment thing," she said weakly. "I don't plan."

"Misao, you have to learn to _control your temper_," he said finally. 

"I know," she sighed, rubbing her temples. She was a veteran when it came to the 'temper' speech. "I know."

"Do you?" the principle questioned. "You don't act like it."

"It was a mistake," she said fiercely. "I was having a bad morning and he knocked me down and my mural-"

"No excuses," he barked. "You should know better than to throw paint on someone, especially a boy on his first day!"

"We wasn't exactly the perfect victim," Misao muttered under her breath, running a finger over the dried paint on her jacket. It was okay really, the paint would come out with club soda and Oxi-clean. 

"Misao," he said with a pleading sigh, something that he rarely did. Misao was one of those frustrating cases, that had so many problems that you wanted to help so badly. She just wouldn't give him anywhere to go. She was surrounded by walls so thick and high he doubted anyone would ever get over them. It was just as well that she was graduating this year. "I'm sorry, but we had to call your father on this one."

All the color, the teasing smile, and the spark from her eyes, suddenly died from Misao's face. She once more became a silent statue. "Oh," was all she said.

"You didn't give me a choice!" Hiko said quickly, wanting her to come back to life suddenly. "This is your third disruption in the last two months Misao, I had to call him sooner or later."

"It's all right," she said quietly. "When will he be here?"

"He's not coming, we just spoke on the phone," the principle replied. The steely tone her father had used on the phone and the sudden change in Misao's demeanor left him to wonder just what went on in the Makimachi household. But this was a small town, and no one spoke of such things in small towns, especially of their most favored politician, the richest and most powerful man in the town. 

"Should I go back to class?" Misao asked politely. 

"No," Hiko said. "There is something else I have to discuss with you."

"Oh?"

"It's about your scholarship." That made Misao fall into her chair. It couldn't be! She couldn't have…_lost _it, could she? Not the scholarship, the only really lifeline she had to escape this town and her father. Not the one chance to go to the school she had dreamt of since her childhood. Not art school. He couldn't have taken that from her too, could he? Tears came unbidden to Misao's green eyes, but she refused to shed on, not while anyone could see.

"Tell me," she said viciously. 

Hiko decided it was best to tell her now, than wait for her father. "You're in danger of losing the scholarship to the Metropolitan School of Liberal Arts, Misao."

"But I haven't lost it yet?" she asked, begging with her mind, her heart, and her soul that she still had a chance.

"No, you still have it." If relief could kill, Misao would have died in that moment a million times over. But as it was, something threatened her dream, and that could not happen. She would kill for her scholarship, her key to art school. The only way she'd ever escape her father for good, since he said he would never pay a dime for her to got to art school from his pocket. So she had worked and worked all her life and was awarded with acceptance and a scholarship to her art school. Now it was in danger, and she'd kill to keep it.

"What do I have to do to keep it?"

"They're enforcing a stricter activities clause to the scholarship. You need another educational extracurricular to qualify."

"That's it?"

"Yes."

"Quick, what's a club I can join?" Misao was once more quick to get things done.

"Unfortunately," Hiko said slowly. "There's only one spot available for you Misao, at least in a qualifying place." 

"What?" she asked, straining across the desk eagerly.

"Tutoring." And that was when her father arrived.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The math teacher had taken Aoshi from the office, saying he was free to go. 

It was a lucky break, and he was thankful for it, but he did feel a little sorry for the girl. She was taking all the blame for the fight. He looked down at the front of his coat and his pity vanished. It served her right.

Aoshi got around the rest of the day without incident, though a lot of people were watching him now. It made him edgy and look more dangerous. That only added more fuel to the gossip fire, and he was sorry for it. But in the end, there was little he could do to stop the masses from talking. He mourned his coat secretly most of the day, counting the minutes until he could go home and try to wash it. 

His lunch was fifth period, and that was where he met 'the gang'.

He had brought his own lunch, fresh and packed by Okina--curtsey of the Aoyia restaurant. So he sat himself down at the furthest table from the masses as he could find, slowly eating his food while surveying the rest of the student body. Just as suspected, it was just as different from home in the cafeteria as it had been in all his other classes. Aoshi only sighed slightly and went back to his food.

"Hi," a voice suddenly said, surprising him out of his silence.

"Huh?" was his oh-so-intelligent reply. Aoshi looked up and was met with the sight of a boy around his age, small for his size, with bright red hair and an obnoxious smile. His wide eyes were purple, and odd combination if anyone asked Aoshi. Of course, they didn't. He came across as welcoming, even if he was a little goofy-looking. 

"I said hello," the boy repeated. "I don't think anyone has formally introduced themselves to you, or welcomed you to school."

"Not really," Aoshi said. "And that's just fine with me." 

"Come now," the boy said cheerily, sitting himself down opposite Aoshi and signaling to someone behind him. Suddenly, three other people appeared and plunked down their trays at the table. Two girls, two guys, all looking at Aoshi expectantly.

"Uh…" he mumbled awkwardly before going back to his sandwich. 

"Oh, we have a bashful one here," one of the girls said in a flirty voice. "You know what this means?"

"It means you'll have to retract your claws?" one boy--the other one--said in question. Aoshi was sorry he had ever acknowledged the goofy red-head.

"Guys," the other girl said with a sigh. "Shut up."

"Whatever."

"I'll do what I want."

"Sorry," the red-head said with a shrug. "That's just how they are." Aoshi did a great job of ignoring him. "By the way," the cheery boy continued. "I'm Kenshin, and these are my friends. We just wanted to make you feel welcome here." Aoshi looked up briefly and saw they were all watching him again.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"You suck at intros Kenshin," the loud boy said with a sigh. He had short, spiky brown hair with a red headband around his head. It looked like he could be a good fighter, and was only a few inches smaller than Aoshi. His brown eyes held humor and pride. He turned to Aoshi then. "I'm Sanosuke, but everyone calls me Sano."

"That's because he's too dense to understand that long of a word," said the girl next to him as she smiled. "I'm Megumi," she introduced herself. She was a pretty one, and obviously knew that, with a fall of dark hair and equally dark eyes. She was the kind of girl that liked to flaunt, but was a good person underneath.

"You know, that's really uncalled for," Sano said with a wounded look.

"Rooster head, don't pout," Megumi taunted. "It'll make what's left of your brain die faster."

"That's it!" Megumi shot up from her seat and took off across the room with Sano hot on her heels, throwing fries at her as he went. It would have been comical, but Aoshi was just more annoyed now.

"One day those two are going to kill each other," the other girl said with a sigh. Her hair was bound behind her head, revealing a pretty face with large, innocent eyes. "I guess I'm the last to introduce myself. I'm Kaoru. It's a pleasure."

"Yeah," Aoshi said with a nod. He went back to his food and tried to pretend they weren't there.

"So," Kaoru said causally. "By the looks of your jacket, I'd say you've had a run-in with Princess Makimachi."

Aoshi looked up then. "Pardon me?"

"She means the paint," Kenshin clarified. "You aren't the first person to be doused by her highness, and I doubt you'll be the last."

"I never did catch her name," Aoshi mumbled, more to himself then the others.

"That would be Misao Makimachi," Kaoru said with a firm nod. "She's the school's royalty. Rich and foul-tempered. If you get anywhere near her or her precious art, you'll be dyed another color."

"I take it she's not very popular then," Aoshi commented, thinking back to a few people like that he knew from his old high school. Back in the city, most foul-tempered people were poor, and proud. 

"Not really," Kenshin said with a shrug. "She keeps to herself mostly. She's the daughter of our town Mayor."

"That's why we call her royalty," Kaoru said lightly. "She's in grade, graduating this year with our class."

"She doesn't look old enough," Aoshi commented, finishing off his lunch.

"She skipped a grade back in middle school," Kaoru clarified. "Her father's doing, no doubt. She just turned seventeen last month."

"Just take our word for it," Kenshin continued. "You don't want to bother her again. Her Dad is law in this town, and even if it's her that starts something--which it usually is--you'll get the blame."

"Thanks for the advice," Aoshi said, getting to his feet and pulling on his backpack. _It's a little too late to save my coat though_, he thought bitterly. By this time, Sano and Megumi had returned from their escapade, just in time to say goodbye as Aoshi departed early to get to his next and final band class. This was a class specially for people who played string instruments--the guitar included. His fingers itched to touch the familiar strings of the instrument, to touch a pick and hear the sounds of tuning. He longed to play a melody and get lost in his own world of notes and harmony. He hadn't written anything new in a while, and that always let him a little testy, but he felt a song coming on and needed to start playing a melody. There would be a double period of this, and finally, AP English. Then he could go home and see if any of the Aoyia employees could help with his coat crisis.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Final period of the day, Aoshi walked in with doom written upon his heart. He had no idea what lay in store for him, but his heightened instincts told him that it was not good. Upon entering, he knew he was right. 

There was, at most, fifteen students in the AP English class. Most of them adorned glasses and pocket protectors, a few he couldn't see because their faces were hidden behind large volumes of text on their desks. The only two he actually could see were both sitting in the back of the room.

The first was a boy who didn't look much older than sixteen, maybe seventeen in a stretch. He had to have been a senior to be in the class, but he looked so damn young. He had a youthful face that was fixed in a smile, as if amused at his own private joke. He drummed his fingers on the desktop to an internal rhythm as his gray eyes roamed the room and settled on Aoshi. Suddenly they went wide, and shifted to the person beside him.

The other person Aoshi saw, sitting next to the boy, was Misao. She was slumped back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest, chewing on a pen cap as she looked down at an open notebook on her desk. Aoshi guessed the boy beside her said something--he was too far away to hear--because she looked up and met his eyes. A second later she turned away, sinking lower into her chair and pulling the edge of her bandana down further to cover her eyes.

"Mr. Shinomori," the teacher said with a nasally voice. "Welcome to AP English. We're just about to start our discussion on the materials we read over the break. Tell me, are you familiar with William Shakespeare's work _A Midsummer's Night's Dream_?"

Oh God, Shakespeare. That was all Aoshi needed. It took all the willpower in his body to keep himself from groaning aloud and wishing a large meteor to strike the earth. "No," he said shortly. "I can't say I am."

"Uh-oh," the teacher said in a sing-song voice. "Looks like you've got a lot to catch up on then." Aoshi wanted to kill himself in that moment, but he would have settled for killing the woman instead. "You can take the open seat in the back next to Misao. Misao, please raise your hand?"

Without enthusiasm, Misao raised her hand, with her middle finger pointing up, slowly into the air. That drew a snicker from the boy in the seat next to her. The teacher turned bright red and looked like she was about to have a heart attack and die. "Misao! Don't make me call principle Hiko!" 

Her hand disappeared quickly and Aoshi made his way to the back and to the empty desk. He looked over at the girl next to him, but she didn't register his presence. Instead, she became very interested in the picture she was drawing in her notebook. Beyond Misao, Aoshi saw the smiling boy again. He caught Aoshi's eye and punted a paper football at his head.

Aoshi, curious despite his intense feeling of warning, opened the note and read it over._ Hey, welcome to English of the Damned. --Soujiro_

It must have been some kind of inside joke because Misao shook her head and scoffed when she saw what Soujiro had done. She then began whispering in a hushed voice with the boy at her side. Aoshi only caught "scholarship", "punishment", and "chicken". After a quick analysis, he decided that he didn't want to know what they were talking about after all.

The class was the longest forty-two minutes of his life. Shakespeare was the one English author he couldn't even pretend to be interested in. The teacher frequently asked the class response questions, and Misao's hand went up for every one. Aoshi had no idea what they were talking about. When the teacher mentioned a test the next week and about it being a third of their grade, Aoshi knew he was in danger of failing this course in his first two weeks of school.

Once the bell rang, he watched as the students filed out. Misao and Soujiro were the last two. Soujiro left with a brief wave in Aoshi's direction and a smile to Misao. She took a little longer, adjusting her headphones and putting away her notebook. With a glance flickered in Aoshi's direction, Misao got up to leave. 

"Aoshi," the teacher said with a sigh. "I would like to talk to you a moment." Aoshi, with nothing to lose, walked up to the teacher's desk. "You don't seem t be familiar with the material at all, and with the test coming up, I don't think there is enough time for you catch up in class."

"Are you going to switch me out?" Aoshi asked in a monotone voice, but inside he was hoping and praying.

"No." His hopes were dashed. "I want you to get a tutor," she continued.

"A tutor?" Aoshi asked with incredibility. 

"Yes," she said with a nod. "Our school has an after school tutoring program, and it just so happens that my best student has volunteered time for those struggling in English."

"Great," Aoshi said, voice thick with sarcasm. The teacher chose to ignore his comments. 

"Just stay after school tomorrow and go to the library," she said, picking up her books. "Have a good afternoon."

"…" Then she walked out, and Aoshi had the extreme wish to throttle something. Yes, his life was hell.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Misao pulled up in the driveway, his car was already waiting. Polished and shiny, the red chrome car was like a beacon of power. It made Misao shiver, thinking about what would happen now. Gathering what courage she could, Misao exited her car and walked toward the front door.

Upon entering the house, the eerie calm washed over her, forcing a shiver down her spine. God, how she hated being afraid. She vowed to herself, just as she had nearly every day for six years, once she left this house, she would never be afraid of anything again. 

He was sitting in his leather chair, in the living room, watching her as she entered the doorway. Dark eyes watched her movements with cunning and anger. Misao could see it already, a coiled spring in the back of his eyes, like a cobra waiting to strike. She swallowed the lump in her throat, placing her side bag on the floor just outside the entrance, then walked into the room.

"I got a call today," her father said evenly. "It seems you were in a fight at school today, Misao."

"Yes," she said without tone. It wouldn't mean a thing if she said that it hadn't been a real fight. Paint was exchanged--she had taken off the denim jacket after coming inside to hide the evidence--and insults, but nothing more.

"And he also informed me that your _scholarship_ to Art school was in danger." The word was like a curse on his tongue, burning into Misao's skin and making her begin to shudder. She hadn't told him about the money for art school. She hadn't even told him about art school. Her plan was to just leave, no discussion, no fighting. To simply escape from this hell. 

"Yes," Misao whispered in a shaky voice. She knew what was coming. He got up languidly from his chair and walked over to her.

"When did you plan on telling me about a scholarship?" he asked in a falsely understanding voice. His politician's voice. 

"After graduation," Misao lied. But she knew he wouldn't know this was a lie. It was a half-truth. He would have found out after graduation, after she left.

"Oh," he said calmly. He lifted his hand to her face, forcing her chin up so she would have to meet his eyes. "That was very stupid."

"I know," Misao said slowly. It was a pointless effort to respond since the blow was already coming. A hard, open-handed slap to the side of her face. The kind of hit that radiated heat in her face, but wouldn't leave a bruise. The kind of hit that would hurt her for hours, and made her eye feel like it would explode with the pain. Over the years, her father had gotten very good and discovering just how he could hurt her without leaving evidence of laying a hand on her. His favorite was psychological.

After a backhand across the other side of her face, pulling on a fistful of her hair and holding his hand precariously tight around her fragile neck, her threw Misao down. "Get out of my sight." She did not have to be told twice. Misao quickly scrambled from the living room, grabbing her bag as she went.

It was rare for her father to hit her anymore. He hadn't physically hit her since she was sixteen, when one of his employees had seen her getting a ride home one afternoon from Soujiro. That had been at the beginning of the school year. Mostly, he just yelled at her, insulted her, and made her feel worthless. That was usually enough for him, but whenever she broke one of his rules, Makimachi would never hesitate to hit her.

Misao took sanctuary in her room on the third floor, her studio. It had been her mother's favorite place in the house, and now it was Misao's. A terrarium was set up in the far corner, with a heat lamp and a few plats set up in and around in. Inside the glass cage, curled up in a large heated rock, was Seraphim, Misao's prized pet. She only had to feed her beloved snake once every three weeks, so he could last until that night. She dropped her bag on one of the stools and crossed to the tank. 

Her neck hurt, but the weight of Seraphim's leathery body on her bare skin made her feel safe. The snake's head rested in her hands as she ran her fingers over his nose. He was still a baby by snake standards, only five feet long, but he was big by human standards. Misao had had Seraphim since she was fourteen, when she had bought him and everything she'd need to take care of him. And to this day, she paid for all his needs thanks to the money she made working at her job--witnessing at a restaurant called the Aoyia. 

After a while of caressing her snake and calming her nerves, Misao put Seraphim back in his cage to rest, and unpacked her bag. She took out one of her sketchbooks and sighed. She wouldn't have time to finish her drawing tomorrow after school because she was roped into that tutoring job, thanks to Hiko. Her father could hit her all he wanted, Misao was not backing down from this, not from a chance at art school. 

She flipped through a few pages of her book nostalgically. When she reached the most recent of drawings, she looked down at the likeness of Aoshi. Misao was happy that she had been able to catch the brooding look on his face, the shadow across his eyes that came from the fall of his hair. It was a good work. One that she ripped carefully from the book and tacked to the wall behind her. On the wall were pages and pages of drawings. Some were of Seraphim in different stages of his life. Most were human figures from pictures she had seen or memories of television. There were a couple of Soujiro mixed in, ones that were made in secret. Her father had noticed them, but he hadn't torn them down yet. Aoshi now joined her forbidden arts. All the pictures swirled around the one canvas in the very center, a painting Misao had down when she was eleven, one of her mother. Of all the art she had ever created, Misao loved that one piece the most. Now she had to admit that Aoshi was her second favorite.

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A/N: My favorite part of fan fiction--writing back to my reviewers! Yay!

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Tiian: Thanks for the kudos on my writing. The characters develop slowly in all of my stories, that's all I can say. You'll see what happens to them, what goes on around them, a few thoughts, but their feelings and motives don't really become clear until mid-story, for me anyway. Everyone is commenting about Aoshi losing his temper. Frankly, I think it would be funny to see him get pissed and yell at someone! I dunno, the story is very OOC, I'm just trying to have fun here. Thanks for reading and I hope you like the rest of it.

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Silver Miko: I'm so happy that you like my story! It's just going to be a fun, semi-serious story that I hope everyone will enjoy with me. I was feeling dramatic--wanted to write something dramatic--but keep a little humor and stuff. I'm an artist too (not to mention writer) so I feel Misao's pain. Thanks for reading, I'm happy you enjoy!

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kakashi-fan: Well, here's what happens next! Next chapter will be out in a few days. Well, they appeared, and they will be popping up through the story, but it centers on Aoshi and Misao--because I heart them, lol. Thanks for reading my story!

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Leina: I am glad you are intrigued by my story so far. I read a lot of Aoshi/Misao because I love them. I love Aus--especially OOC Aus--because I hate tampering with things that are already so perfect. Sorry about them being same age, I just don't want Aoshi to have a Lolita complex and all. Thanks for reading!

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Tamakia'gss: Updated and set! Next chapter to come soon. I'm happy that you like it so far, please remember to review, hehe. 

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indigo chipmunk: I think it's been soon enough, yes? I'm really happy that you like this story. I think it's not that bad for what it is. Enjoy this chapter. The next chapter will be out soon.

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Jerjonji: Yes, I always like to take my time in revealing my characters because I always try to make them complex. I'm very happy that you are interested in my story. I think it's pretty good for a block-breaker. I hope I can keep you interested!

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Misao Mei Mei: Sorry for the OOC-ness. I just think it's appropriate for the situation I set them in. You know teenager + high school = outbursts of anger. I'll try to tone down the Aoshi temperament a little, to keep you satisfied. But I'm happy you like the rest. Thanks for reading.

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Allin656: I'm glad you like the start--and my other stuff for that matter, lol. I plan to stick with this one, to help me get out of my current funk. I never start a story I don't intend to finish--_Wanderers will be done, I swear it!_ I predict about 10 chapters, maybe more, maybe less. I'm not sure yet. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3: A Little Club Soda And Shakes...

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A/N: For a block-breaker, this is flowing pretty good. I really have no ultimate plan for this story, the plot twists a little every day. One day I wake up thinking I'm make Misao a suicidal goth, another day I think perhaps Aoshi should be a cross-dresser. It's all one big blob. But I like what's forming as I go along. Thanks to all those reading this. (Before I begin, please forgive any spelling errors!)

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Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin or anything affiliated with that anime. However, I do own Seraphim the Boa Constrictor. *squeeze him until he's blue* MINE!

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Riffs and Canvas

Chapter 3: A Little Club Soda And Shakespeare

When Aoshi got home that afternoon, he entered the front door of the Aoyia and listened dismally to the annoying bell chiming on the closing door. He made a mental note to talk to his grandfather about that. Not right now though, right now he was off to take care of his coat. The restaurant was empty, meaning that the employees must be in the kitchen. Aoshi dropped his backpack on one of the booths in the restaurant and headed upstairs--into the house portion of the building. When he reached the floor that he room was on, Aoshi quickly disrobed from his coat and made his way toward the laundry room in the back.

Deftly, he tossed the coat over the top of the dryer and grabbed a bottle of stain remover. Quickly, Aoshi squirted the paint with half the bottle and stuffed his coat into the washer and set it on. For the full twenty minutes, Aoshi paced in the small laundry cubical. When the buzzer went off signaling the end of his wait, he pounced over and pulled the coat out. Only to be met with the sight of a large black blotch of paint bright on the front of his gray trench coat.

"Dammit!" he cursed, repeating the experiment.

After four washes, and two bottles of Shout, Aoshi finally crumpled to the floor in defeat and tossed his prized trench coat in the dryer. Stained or not, he would wear it proudly. So there he sat, on the floor in the washroom, in front of the dryer, until Okina found him.

"Aoshi?" he questioned, looking inside. Aoshi didn't turn around. His head was bowed in mourning and his voice was low. 

"Hello Grandpa. Can I help you with something?"

"Boy," Okina said, tapping the cordless phone against his hand. "Why are you on the floor?"

Aoshi sighed and turned to look at his grandfather. Okina was a man who never liked to think of himself past his prime--even though it waved bye-bye to him long ago--and he still acted, although with great wisdom, like a large child most of the time. He was clean-cut and still was a good-looking guy, for an old man. He was just like Aoshi remembered him. 

There was a time when Aoshi used to spend summers with Okina at the Aoyia. Okina, though now a revered restaurateur, was also a retired prize-fighter. During the summers that Aoshi spent at the Aoyia, Okina eagerly taught his grandson martial arts. That was, until Okina got into a fight with Aiko over money--of all things--when Aoshi was ten, and after that split, he was never allowed to return to the Aoyia. Still, Aoshi practiced his craft diligently over the years and Okina was very proud of him. Even though Aoshi once adored and admired his grandfather, nearly eight years of separation left him feeling a bit awkward. 

"My life is hell," Aoshi said with a sigh.

"Why is that?" Okina asked, his brow furrowing and ceased his tapping of the phone.

Aoshi darkened for a moment. "Well, let's see, shall we?" he snapped sarcastically. "I had to quit my jobs, move away from my friends and everything I knew. I've come to this place that's unfamiliar and…_weird_! Some psycho chick from school dumped paint all over my favorite coat. I was stuck in some AP English class and now I have to get a fricking tutor tomorrow afternoon! For the love of God grandpa, I don't see how this day could get any worse!"

"Aoshi?"

"What!?"

"You have a phone call," Okina said, tossing him the cordless. Then he went back down to the restaurant and Aoshi was left holding the phone in a daze.

"Hello?"

"So Leader, you finally realized I'm here?" a calm, but amused voice said from the phone. Aoshi sighed happily and leaned his back against the dryer. 

"Hannya," was all he said. Hannya, his best friend and second-in-command/partner in crime, laughed at his friend's reaction.

"I couldn't help overhearing," he said after a sigh, a little apologetically. "It sounds like you aren't getting along well, Leader." 

'Leader' was the nickname that was bestowed upon Aoshi years ago, when the five teenaged boys who lived on his block formed their own makeshift gang--the Oniwaban Group to be exact. Aoshi had always been the strategist, the one who made and executed their plans of action, and stayed beside his friends despite good offers to go elsewhere. He was loyal and strong, one that others feared and respected, even if they couldn't understand him completely. Aoshi's four friends, his gang, his group, they would die for him, and he for them. This was the reason why it hurt him so much when he left. It was so good just to hear Hannya's voice again.

"I want to go home," Aoshi confided, not caring how childish he sounded because Hannya would understand--he always did. 

"We miss you here as well," Hannya said in his customary low voice. Aoshi also heard trouble in the tone of his friend's voice. Almost a bit strained. 

"Hannya?"

"It's nothing, Aoshi," the other boy said hastily. Reverting to his given name was something Hannya only did when he was very ill and tired, or he was lying. And knowing Hannya practically his entire life, Aoshi knew when he was lying.

"Hannya," Aoshi said in warning. "What is it?" 

Hannya sighed, long and low, before answering in a weary voice that seemed much older than the eighteen years he had lived. "Kanryuu knows that you're gone and he's been after the Oniwaban group for his own uses again. We've turned him down," he added rapidly, "but it's only a matter of time."

"No Hannya," Aoshi said coldly, his anger and stubborn nature rising faster than blood. He thought of the neighborhood drug lord who had been trying to solicite Aoshi and his gang into his employment for years and clenched his fists in silent fury. "He will never use the Oniwaban group, not while I still have breath!"

Hannya chuckled a little. "Of course Leader, of course." They chattered idly after that, cooling Aoshi's temper and making him feel that longing for the familiar once more. They spoke of old times, and of the rest of the Oniwaban group. Aoshi also fell into step talking about everything that had been going on since his arrival here, including the untimely death of his coat. He was happy that Hannya--the bastard--got a good laugh out of his misery. By the time the buzzer for the dryer went off on said coat, Hannya was giving his apologies and had to depart. 

As he pulled the coat from the dryer, feeling the warmth still clinging to the fabric, he felt refreshed if still a little homesick. He shrugged on the coat as he walked to his room. He was feeling musical of a sudden, so he grabbed the large case sitting on his bed and went downstairs into the vacant restaurant. 

Once there, he gently laid the second-hand case on one of the booth table-tops and opened it to reveal his prized possession, his guitar. The body was black, polished and smooth under rough fingers. Years of practice had worn the pads of his fingers into protective calluses, and his long fingers were meant to play the cords as they flew deftly over each string. As he lifted the instrument, sliding the band over his head to rest on his shoulder, he felt the comfortable weight of the guitar, an extension of himself. 

The guitar was his favorite, even though he could also play the piano and the drums. All of his life, Aoshi had been raised around music, so it was only natural that someone with such a love would want to learn as much as he could. He remembered of a few of his mother's old boyfriends--those who hadn't been complete assholes--who had taught him a thing or two in passing about music and would listen to him play. A few of them had even offered to make a demo of him to go along with his mother, but Aiko always refused. Aoshi had a vindictive thought that she was jealous he might succeed where she failed for so long. She could sing like an angel, but she knew nothing of music itself. Aoshi, on the other hand, _was_ music itself. 

Despite a long list of short-comings, it was Aiko who had insisted that Aoshi get an instrument if he wanted one. When he was nine years old, he was given a guitar and that had changed his life forever. The more he played, the more he knew that his life was to be spent in the pursuit and study of music. It was the rhythm that beat in his heart and the notes that formed unbidden in his head that made Aoshi such a successful musician. It was his art. 

Guitar in hand, Aoshi hopped on to the counter in the restaurant, resting the guitar in his lap as he strummed a few cords. Okina came out from the kitchen, followed by one of his live-in waitresses, Okon, and her young daughter, Loki. Having nothing recognizable to play at the moment, Aoshi only strummed a distant melody to soothe his nerves and entertain his spectators. After a while, he even added a few random lyrics, most featuring someone with an empty voice and haunting eyes.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Let's just say that Misao didn't want to be a tutor. 

After last night's scuff with her father, the last thing she wanted to do was to tell him that she would be spending some of her free hours with a random stranger. But she worked up her courage and told him that morning while readying for school. (She also packed her uniform in a bag since she wouldn't have enough time to come home before going to work.)

He was not happy, to say the least, but because it was educational--and Hiko had insisted--he had no choice but to allow Misao this thing. She received a could cuff across the side of the face for it, one that left a red mark she spent twenty minutes trying to cover. He stormed out not long after to go to the office, leaving her to make her own way to school. She was grateful for his absence, but couldn't shake the foul mood that descended upon her. 

Misao dressed much as she had the day before, jeans and a random shirt, with her jean jacket over it. The bruises on her arms from her last scuffle with her father's 'guards' had not yet faded, so she needed to keep them covered for a while. Her hair was hidden beneath a hat this day, a small black one that shaded her face and her sunglasses from view. 

Upon reaching school, she found that Miss Tae was hovering over her more than usual. It was a little irritating, and was thankful when the teacher finally let her back into the hallway to salvage what she could of the mural.

When Misao came to the hallway and looked at the wall, seeing the ugly line and what had been marred, she felt strangely hollow. That was when she reached into her bag and pulled out a large white _Magic Rub _eraser and took it to the wall furiously. It took her the rest of the period to finish erasing yesterday's masterpiece, and when she was done, it didn't make her feel any better.

After the period change, she still had a period to work. The problem? She had no idea what to draw now. Her mind was conveniently blank of all idea and thought, all that came--unbidden--to her mind, was the image of her father's face when he had discovered her secret. Now that he knew about her scholarship, he would try to stop her. That meant trouble, and pain, and war. 

Abruptly she felt angry. Like hitting something, _hard_! Like throttling the life out of the next living person she saw! The period had already changed though, so that meant she was alone for the next half hour, be that good for them and bad for Misao. Still, she was without her muse. With a heavy sigh, the green-eyed girl slumped down with her back to the wall, and looked the image of defeat.

_Think Misao_, she mentally lectured herself in a voice hauntingly familiar to her mother's. _This is a music hallway, so that means you should do something musical._

_But I'm not musical_, another part of her said furiously. _I'm not anything. I'm just a waste of skin_. She felt no better with that established. 

That was when Misao heard the music coming from the nearest room. It was a familiar song, one she'd heard a thousand times before, but played in such a way that it sounded new. Misao crept, on all fours, to the door before kneeling and peaking in through the small window in the door. The room was dark, only the dais on the far wall was lit. On the dais, sitting on a stool, and playing the acoustic guitar, was Aoshi. His dark hair fell over his face, eyes closed while tuning the melody by ear. His body was composed , but relaxed, swaying slightly with the rhythm. He was also singing the words to the song, but she couldn't make them out, only the low timbre of his voice though the stone and wood and glass between them. 

_Now it makes sense_, she thought with a lazy smile. _He's a musician_. 

And that was when she was hit by a fabulous idea for her mural. Misao scrambled to her feet and scurried back over to the wall. As the music continued, she hummed and eventually picked up the lyrics herself, in a soft whisper so as not to distract herself from the sound giving her such inspiration.

"Everyday you're on my mind, pain is feeling passing time. But if she found out about us she would die. And if I have to live without you so would I. So I thirst for water; I find myself wanting now." Misao quickly sropped the pencil from her hand and grabbed a sharp one from her pocket, not wanting to lose her focus. She jammed another pencil behind her ear, for when this one was worn down. "So I'm running away to you, I cannot escape you, to feel your touch, the faith you prove, I'm running away to you."

The first figure was complete, so she lithely moved a to the next one without faltering one step. It was a fluid motion, one familiar and welcome. All thoughts of that morning, all dread and fear and anger was swept from her body and into the pencil. She was focused on solely one thing, and that was her art. "Hearts are never made of stone. Pain will cut you to the bone. But I know that holding you is all so wrong, so tonight's the last we'll ever be alone. So I thirst for water, I find myself wanting now. So I'm running away to you, I cannot escape you, to feel your touch, the faith you prove, I'm running away to you."

The second figure was done and she was on to the third, the final. All were being done in an artistic technique where the artist never removes the pencil from the canvas, she was only drawing rough shapes and little detail. The rest would be added when she did the outlining in the black paint. "Turn around, fill my eyes with you, all senses to commit, till every thing's all right. So I'm running away to you, I cannot escape you, to feel your touch, the faith you prove, I'm running away to you."

The song was finished, and so was Misao. She listened to the last chords die away slowly and sighed that deep sigh of a person who is fulfilled, if only for a moment. The rest of the day would work, and so would this tutoring business. It would all work out in the end. 

"It can't rain all the time," Misao said with a spring in her step as she made her way back to the art hallway with a minute to spare. "It can't rain all the time."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Aoshi walked into the library with a sigh. He was _not_ happy about this, but it had to be done. It was the only way to pass English and graduate from this hellhole. He had his guitar--something he discovered would have to be brought to school every day he planned to play it if he was not willing to leave it locked in the classroom, which he was not. 

The librarian's desk was on the right, just after coming down the four steps from the door. That was where he headed. And when the stereotypical school librarian--an old woman with an attitude and a bun--looked up from the rim of her glasses at him, she only pursed her lips before turning to the next page in her Danielle Steele romance novel. 

"I'm here for tutoring," Aoshi said patiently when she wouldn't look at him again. 

"Try the room in the back, honey," she said without looking up. "She's already waiting for you." 

"Thank you," Aoshi said flatly before heading to the small glass rooms in the back of the library reserved for students in need of 'quiet' study. Only one was occupied.

In the room sat a girl with her feet crossed and propped up on the table top, and a copy of Shakespeare's play blocking her face. Somewhere in the pit of his stomach, Aoshi knew he should have just turned and run, but pride made he walk into the room, and ego made him close the door behind him. That was when Misao looked up from her book.

For a moment, there was only silence, before they began an intense stare down. No words were needed, all their ill feelings and temper flashed in the electricity that passed between their eyes. If looks could kill, they would have both been impaled on giant steak forks and had their livers eaten daily by vultures, like Prometheus. 

"Have a seat," Misao said in a frosty voice.

"Thanks," he replied with a match tone.

"So you're the Shakespearean dunce," she commented. "I don't suppose you brought a copy of the play from class?"

"Didn't occure to me," he said, bristling in silence.

"Good thing I thought ahead," she said calmly, sliding her spare copy across to him. It was a hard cover edition, perfect for a beginner because it had many of the quote translated in the footnotes. Misao's own was her paperback, worn from constant readings, dog-eared a million times, and highlighted for her favorite verses. 

"Aren't you a clever one," he muttered to himself. 

"I am," she sad with a sort of feral grin. "Now, we should get started." Aoshi let out a sigh under his breath and braced himself of an hour of agony. Misao, seeing his totally disregard for her favorite author, brought out a small white egg timer from her bag and turned it for one hour. So they would both know when this was over. There were no clocks in the study rooms. "This is my favorite of his plays," she said lightly, to start off on a good note.

"Good for you," Aoshi said smoothly. Misao was not amused.

"It's actually good for _you_," she replied. "I know this play front and back, so you should get an A on next week's test, or I've failed my job as an instructor."

"I'm sure that will keep you up at nights," he commented lightly, his blue eyes flashing with mocking. Misao leaned forward slightly across the table, bringing her legs down under the table once more. Her eyes were fixed with his.

"If you don't pass this test, then I don't get credit for this little venture," she said slowly, as if he was a dense child. It made Aoshi grow eerily close to losing his patience. "And if I don't get credit, I could lose my scholarship for college. If that happens, you'll rue the day you stepped foot on to this campus."

"Listen _kid_," Aoshi said, satisfied that he hit a nerve when she flinched. "I already rue the day I came to this _town_, so spare me the threats and instruct."

Misao leaned back in her chair, biting her bottom lip to keep from hurling said chair at his head. _Temper Misao, _her mother's voice came to her mind one more. _Temper_. There was no other voice in the world who could calm the wild streak in Misao accept for her mother, now only a memory. She took a breath, fighting fury and anguish at the same time. 

"Start reading from page 1," Misao said softly, not looking at him. Aoshi rolled his eyes, but did as she said. After a moment, she spoke again. "Aloud, if you please. This is a play after all." Aoshi ground his teeth together, but began reading in a sickeningly calm voice. That was his greatest weapon, his control. Yesterday had been a slip, a compound of new places and strange girls, but now he would once more be a stone wall. 

As he read, Misao began to calm, her mind once more focusing. It was clear he had no passion for what he read, but his voice wrapped around the lyrics regardless. He had a voice of song, and couldn't help the flow of music in the text even if he tried. Misao believed that if he had meant what he read, it would be so much sweeter, like the bards of old, but she was satisfied with what she was given. 

After a while, she stopped him. "All right," she said evenly. "Let's go over what we have read so far."

"Joy."

"I don't want to be here any more than you do," she said in frustration. "The least you could do is _try_ to pass English." That shut him up. "Well, so far we have established that there is going to be a wedding in Athens, any guesses as to who's getting married?"

He had none. Misao was getting a headache already. "Theseus, the Duke of Athens, and Hipolyta, the Amazon Queen," she answered for him. 

"Okay."

"And then you meet three of the four main cast, Hermia, Demetrius, and Lysander. Do you know why they are there?"

Once more, she was met with silence. Misao sighed. "Hermia's father, Egeus, wants her to marry Demetrius, but she is in love with Lysander. Egeus comes before Theseus to beg the law of Athens--that Hermia marry the man of his choosing, or she is put to death."

"That sucks."

"Yes," Misao said, glad they agreed on one thing at least. "Once Theseus agrees with this decree, he takes Demetrius and Egeus with him, to speak privately, and that is when Hermia and Lysander come up with their plan."

"Don't even ask because I have no idea," Aoshi said suddenly. "I read it, but don't expect me to understand this lyrical shit." Misao fought to calm the urge of chair hurling once more--if only it was an Olympic sport, but alas. 

She got to her feet them, holding the book before her, but barely needing to look at it as she quoted Lysander for him. Her voice was passionate, and low, holding in it all the emotion that should be put into such a line of love. _"Ay me! for aught that I could ever read, could ever hear by tale or history, the course of true love never did run smooth."_

Aoshi only blinked at her, a little taken back by her sudden conviction. That was when he noticed something. She wore the same jacket that she had the day before--only quite without a black paint stain.

"Hey!" he said unexpectedly. Misao swallowed the last line. "Where's the stain?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're jacket," he said with sudden fury. He pulled closed his own, showing the black stain in full view. "Where is yours?"

"I washed it off?" she said in question.

"I washed mine four times!" he said, striving for calm once more. 

"You didn't do it right," she said with a shrug. "I'm a painter, I'm constantly washing paint from my clothes. You in the other hand," she said, leaning over to inspect the stain--which had in fact grown--and smiling suddenly, "have no hand for it."

Aoshi switched from angry to brooding in 3.2 seconds. "And how does one go about washing paint from their jackets?"

Misao gave him a lazy smile, grabbing up both their books and stuffing them into her bag. "Come on," she said with a nod of her head toward the door.

"What?"

"Come on," she said again, more forcefully this time. Then she grabbed up the timer and walked out of the room. Aoshi quickly followed at her heels. Once at the desk, Misao smiled at the librarian. "We're leaving a little early today, Lorraine," she said cheerily. "Can you save me the room again tomorrow?"

"Oh course, Misao dear," Lorraine the librarian said, looking up from her book with a smile. "Have a good afternoon."

"You too." Then she was walking again, and Aoshi was catching up.

"You're in tight with the staff," he said calmly. 

"I'm in there a lot," she said with a shrug. "We'll take my car," she said once they entered the parking lot. "I can drop you off here before I go to work."

"Where are we going?" Aoshi asked, confused. He followed Misao to a rusty-black truck. She unlocked the doors and hopped inside, starting the engine placidly and waited for him. 

"Get in and find out," was all she would say. Deciding he had nothing to lose, Aoshi got him. She pulled out of the parking lot and drove off toward the middle of town, to a part Aoshi had never been to. She hummed a little as she drove, but didn't talk or look at him. When she pulled into a driveway, Aoshi was sure that it was her house. It was big, airy, and beautiful, just the kind of place he would picture someone like Misao growing up in. For some reason, that thought made him feel vaguely inadequate, like he was not welcome. "Come," Misao said, hopping out of the truck.

Aoshi followed her once more as she riffled through her bag and pulled out a house key to unlock the door before leading him in. He looked around at the well-lit rooms, all covered in expensive rugs and full of new furniture. He was sure that Misao had never slept in a place without heat, or with broken windows and rats. He couldn't see a girl like her somewhere dirty and cold and rundown. She was raised to comfort.

Misao got that same sickly feeling in her stomach she did every time she walked into the house, but this time it was accompanied by a panicky and exciting feeling. She was doing something illegal, something forbidden, something her father would beat her senseless over, but she was gripped by a sudden madness and didn't care about the consequences. She had brought a boy--much less a strange boy--into her perfect house. This boy was far from perfect, and Misao loved the contrast between him and her father's world of order and category. He was something so unique and unfamiliar. Misao had the feeling he had no idea just was a beautiful thing he was. It made her feel a little bad, though.

"You have a nice house," Aoshi said after a moment of awed silence. Misao frowned slightly and turned away as she closed the door.

"Thanks," she said with a monotone voice. "Follow me," she said again, heading up the staircase and to the second floor. When they got to the second floor, she stopped them. "Give me your coat," she said, holding out her hands. Aoshi was loathe to part with it.

"Why?"

"Do you want me to clean it or not?" The question struck him as odd. That was why she brought him here? To _wash_ his _coat_? Slowly, he took it off and handed it to her. "The least I can do for staining it," she said softly. "You can wait in the studio, just up those stairs," Misao explained, pointing to another staircase. Then she disappeared down the hallway. 

Aoshi did as she asked, climbed the stairs to a strange looking studio. The room was open and devoid of furniture, accept for a comfy chair in the corner--next to a lit terrarium--and a stool on wheels with several easels and a desk. It was obviously for an artist, and art he found in abundance. He walked over to the wall, the one splattered with tacked up drawings and paintings. He saw the change in them, the ones at the bottom were raw and obviously done by a beginner. The farther he looked up, the better they got. A bright painting in the center looked out at him with bright green eyes, a smiling woman who looked much like Misao, only with fair hair.

Misao, in the mean time, was humming lightly to herself as she dabbed club soda on the stain, then poured a little oxi-clean on it before tossing it on a low speed in the washer. She figured she better check on Aoshi, least her studio be in ruins before she returned. When she did go up, she saw he was mesmerized by something on her wall. Upon closer investigation, she saw he was looking at the painting of her mother.

Although she began it when she was ten, Misao had since improved it over the years, thanks to a large picture that sat forever at her bedside. The painting was nearly a duplicate, only enlarged and improved. It captured just the right sparkle in the green eyes, the perfect warmth of her smile, even the tiny freckles that dusted the bridge of her nose. The freckles Misao had so envied in her young, beautiful mother. 

Misao was sure Aoshi hadn't heard or seen her come up, he was that entranced. "You like that one?"

He nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned on her with a frown. She only looked at him in question. "Yeah," was all he said.

"That's Sae," Misao said with a sigh. "My mother." Aoshi looked back at the painting, and then looked at the girl before him. There was strong resemblance between them. Sure, Misao had darker hair and lacked the freckles, but the eyes were the same. And he was sure that if Misao smiled like that, she would be just as beautiful as the woman in the painting.

"It's good," he said in compliment. Misao shrugged it off. 

"Your coat will be done in a couple minutes, then I'll toss it in the dryer and we'll be done just in time."

"For what?"

"For me to go to work," she said calmly. That made Aoshi wonder about something.

"Will your parents be home before that?" Misao looked like she just took a blow to the stomach.

"Mom's dead," she said without feeling. "My father works late." She didn't say that he could have had her tailed today, due to yesterday's fight. It had happened before. Makimachi was mistrustful of his daughter and could, at any time, tell one of his 'guards' to follow her. If they saw he break any of the rules, they called her father, and she paid dearly for it.

"Oh," was all he said, not liking the way she looked suddenly. 

That was when the phone rang, and Misao jumped higher than a cat after an electric shock. After her heart began again, she walked to the small extension in the studio and picked it up, dreading the voice on the other end.

"Misao!" a cheery voice greeted her instead. Misao let out an even breath, vowing to kiss that boy next time she saw him.

"Soujiro," she breathed. 

"Sorry to scare you," he apologized. "I was just curious as to how your _tutoring_ is going. I saw you two skip out from library." She did not like what he was insinuating.

"And what were you doing, little perv," she accused.

"I'm in basketball, weasel," he reminded. She heard the smile in his voice and all thoughts of kissing him were gone.

"Yeah well, I needed out of there." She looked over at Aoshi, who was watching her with a fixed experession. Misao took a deep breath. "Nothing is going on, ok? Look, I'll call you tonight."

"Sure, blow me off as always," he said in a wounded voice, but laughed a second later. "Later 'Soa."

"Bye Sou," she said and hung up. Aoshi was still watching her when she turned around. "Kid from English," she said, as if that was explanation enough. 

"Boyfriend?" he asked.

"_No_," Misao said quickly, holding up her hands in a dramatic protest. She very nearly laughed at the thought. "He's…kind of…like my brother." She struggled for a second before letting it drop. That was when, thankfully, she heard the faint and distant buzz of the washer. "Your coast is done, come and see."

And so he did, and was amazed to see that the paint, in fact, was completely gone. As if it had never been. His coat, his beloved favorite trench coat, was alive once more! Misao, delighting in her superiority for a moment, tossed it into the dryer for twenty minutes. 

Aoshi, though mostly silent, suddenly broke it with a comment. "I noticed that there is a picture of me on your wall." Misao looked at him a moment before her entire face flushed a brilliant red. Damn! She was certain he hadn't seen that one, lone, picutre tucked away near the outer edge.

"I drew it in Hiko's office yesterday," she said. Red, but not breaking eye contact, she stood toe to toe with him. He was quite impressed by her attitude and her courage. He had seen--and used--a level, cold gaze reduce people to babbling idiots and submissive worms. Misao, this slip of a girl, stood toe to toe with him even if he was her senior in age and height. He was starting to feel respect toward her, and that annoying interest rose to the surface of his mind once more. 

But the moment was shattered with the slamming of a car door outside. Misao, eyes wide and the color quickly draining from her face, flew to the window. There, she could see her father's car clearly, and the man himself stalking toward the door. A look of intense rage was on his face. Misao froze, every muscle in her body suddenly tensed.

"Misao?" She turned to look at Aoshi. In her intense state of horror, she didn't notice that it had been the first time he had ever called her by name. Nor did she notice just how musical it sounded when coming from his lips. All she noticed was that her father was here, and he was coming. If he found Aoshi, Misao was as good as dead.

"My father's home," she said, soft as death. She lunged at the dryer, pulling out his coat. it was still damp, but she shoved it in his arms and grabbed his hand. Quick as lightning, Misao dragged him with her from the laundry room and raced down the hall to her father's bedroom. There was a sliding door that led outside to the deck in the backyard. From there, Aoshi could sneak through the gate and get to the truck. "You have to get out of here before he finds you," she said hurriedly, pushing him outside just as the front door opened.

"Why?" he managed to ask. She didn't have time to answer.

"Misao!" a voice called from below.

"Please," she begged. At the pleading looking in her eyes, the same green eyes as the painting he had seen, the haunting eyes he had only flashed yesterday morning, Aoshi knew he dare not refuse. He only nodded curtly and flew. "Coming!" Misao called, once sure he was safely out.

She quickly ran back down the hall and to the stairs. He was in the den now, giving Misao time to rip off her hat and pull her hair from it's braid fiercely. Then, she pulled off her jacket--positive she ripped a button in the process--and kicked off her shoes, thus making it look like she was in the middle of changing her clothes. Then she went downstairs to face her fate.

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A/N: Sorry for the delay, I was sick this week so I didn't get around to posting like I hoped I would--and last week was my birthday so I was distracted by gifts and parties…and cake. Oh my one, true weakness! (well, Ramen is the real weakness, but cake is #2!) Here is reviewer response, enjoy!

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Gauntlet challenge: Here is the next chapter, hope this is as intriguing as the others. 

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Mistress-eos14: Here's what's next. Different is good, yes? I hope so!

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Tiian: My writer's block is deformed against me, I swear. But I haven't had any inspiration for anything, so it's good that I get this out while it's running. The purpose--and why I love Aus so much--is that they take a well known character and place them in a situation totally foreign and abstract. It makes you free to use them as you like, while in the actual setting, you have the really hard job of making them true to life. I like making them my own. You inquire after Misao's mother, which will come in later chapters. I like giving my characters one raw talent, and one major character flaw. This story is very focused on that fact. Thanks for reviewing--I like them long!

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Tamakia'gss: Yes, yes he is. Don't worry, I'm not much of an artist either. I love art, but mine is horribly mangled, heh. I write though. Seraphim is a boa constrictor, perhaps more of a ball python. I love snakes too! I had a ribbon snake for about four years, he was only a little over two feet, tiny but adorable. 

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Misao Mei Mei: Yes, there is nothing like the bond between boy and coat. I see Misao as a snake person. *nods* This was the first one, expect the others to be more….'heated' if you get my drift.

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Allin656: I actually didn't plan on making her abused when I started writing this. But the more I thought about it, the more it would help the eventual outcome of this story if I made it more than just psychological. Thanks for the birthday wishes, I'm happy that you like this story--and hope you like my others as well.

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Darkmoon0829: I am very pleased that you like this story. I hope this chapter is up to your standards!

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Mariana-chan: The next one will be better, I promise. This one was a test run, you could say. I'm one up on you for the stain, lol. Thanks for the luck, I hope you like it!

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Jerjonji: Thanks for the compliments, that's what I was going for. I'm really happy that you can feel as they do. I always try to make my characters as real to my readers as they are to me. 

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SpiritDemon: Here is your update. Well, this _is _a romance story after all. What kind would it be if my hero and heroine didn't fell all fuzzy!? I gave you a bit of spoilers, so you know my position on the rest, thanks for the review!

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Susan: Thanks for the love of reading this, lol! Well, it _is _an AU after all, so I'm allowed to take creative license. Here is the next chapter, I hope it's up to standards! I won't disappoint--I hope!


	4. Chapter 4: The Battle of the Aoyia

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A/N: Here is chapter four, because everyone knows chapter 4 is the best chapter ever! (Not really, I'm just bored…) For all those who don't know, the song used in the last chapter was _Running Away _by _Fuel_, one of the greatest bands in the world! Please forgive any spelling errors! Enjoy!

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Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, the rights for the fabulous works of William Shakespeare, or the lyrics to any of the songs used in this or other chapters. Wow, that's a legal mouthful….

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Riffs and Canvas

Chapter 4: The Battle of the Aoyia

Aoshi shimmied down the side of the deck, falling softly to the ground. He snuck around the side of the house, grumbling under his breath, and tucking his beloved coat under his arm. He peeked in one of the side windows, seeing if he could spot Misao and instead had to duck as her father thrashed about in the living room. _Talk about overprotective_, he thought with a shake of his head. Without a glance back, Aoshi made for Misao's truck like a spy from _Mission: Impossible. _He didn't want to risk making noise while getting into the cab, so he simply hopped into the pit of the truck and lay on his back, praying it wouldn't start raining, and waited for Misao to take him back to school. "And it better be soon," he said under his breath.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Misao." 

She shivered at the sound of his voice when she walked into the room, trying to calm her heart and act strong. He stood amid a fury of overturned chairs and discarded cushions. His dark eyes were fierce and his scowl was threatening. Still, she would not let herself be overrun with fear so early on in the game. 

Makimachi watched as she entered. She looked disheveled, her face flushed, her hair hanging loosely around her like a curtain. Her eyes met his and they were innocent and questioning. For a moment, he doubted what his guard had told him. After all, it was a well-known fact that Jineh was high-strung. Yet, there was something in his gut that told him she had been hiding someone in the house. Despite her innocent look, there was defiance in her.

"Dad," she said, bowing her head slightly. "What are you doing home so early?"

He took a step closer to her and saw Misao's body stiffen in response. "Where is he?" The words were each said slowly, dripping with threats and malice and promises of pain. Misao paled, but he couldn't tell if that was a sign of guilt or plain fear. "Well?" he barked, moving so that he was now planted firmly in front of her. For Misao, there was no escape.

"There's no one here but me," she said, assuming a familiar submissive position, praying he would simply get fed up and storm away. Misao was never that lucky.

Her father grabbed a fistful of her long hair, pulling it savagely until she whimpered in pain and fell on to all fours. She blinked furious tears from her eyes as he landed a swift kick to her ribs. "Where is he?" her father bellowed again.

"There's no one here but me!" she cried back, curling into a ball to protect herself as best as she could.

"Liar!" he yelled, towering over her small form. He looked down at her, sneering, for a moment longer before dragging Misao to her feet. "Jineh has been kind enough to keep an eye on you for the last few days, my dear." He brushed the hair from her face with false gentleness and Misao had to resist an intense urge to flinch. "He saw you leave school today with a boy. Was it Soujiro?"

"No," Misao denied softly.

"Remember what happened last time I caught you with him," he threatened, pressing on a particularly nasty bruise on her shoulder--one left by Jineh's beating on Misao over the weekend. She hissed in a breath of air, willing the sharp pain to pass. It did, but with the passing of pain, Misao's blood began to rise. That reckless abandon that had possessed her to bring Aoshi home in the first place rushed through her veins. Courage filled her, the only emotion that made her feel strong enough to lie to her father.

"Jineh is a drug addicted son of a bitch! He was probably seeing double of me," she shouted, squirming to try and escape his grasp. He only tightened his grip, nails biting into soft flesh and bruising. "I am as I always have been and always will be. Alone!"

In his disgust, Misao was released harshly and fell hard to the floor. "Get out." Simple enough a command that Misao needed no repetition. She scrambled to her feet and bolted from the room, but she mentally scorned herself.

__

Bravo Misao, you flee from him like a beaten cur once again.

She looked out of a window in passing, and saw no sign of Aoshi. He was either hiding, or had long ago left the property. He wouldn't blame him if he had. Sighing at her own weakness, Misao grabbed her bag, stuffed her hair back into her hat, and left the house for the safety of the Aoyia. It was the only place in the world where she felt at home. 

Upon return to her car, Misao started it up, wincing a little at the pain in her ribs as she bent in her seat to look behind her before pulling out. Once she was a few streets from home, there was a knocking on the window panel, the one that led from the cab into the pit of the truck. When she turned around, Misao saw Aoshi calmly sitting in the pit, wrapped in his trench coat, looking rather miffed. She pulled over so that he could climb in the side door.

"Sorry," she said once they were driving again.

"What was that all about?" he asked in annoyance. "I thought you said he didn't get home until late."

"He usually doesn't," she commented. "But he has ways of knowing if I do anything wrong."

"And you bringing me home is wrong." It was a comment, not a question. She didn't respond, but the silence was enough of an answer for Aoshi. "Whatever," he said with a snort. It made Misao bristle.

_The ignorant bastard has no idea what I just went through to save his sorry hide_, she internally raged, gripping the steering wheel tighter. _You brought it on yourself_, her mother's voice said. _You brought him home, knowing the risk, Misao._ She sighed a little.

"Tomorrow we'll stay in the library," Misao said in a low voice as she pulled into the school parking lot, beside his car, and Aoshi climbed out without a 'thanks' or 'goodbye'. She hadn't expected one anyway. The air was once more thick with anger and tension. Parting ways, Aoshi took off toward home and Misao took a short-cut. 

She parked in the parking lot of an abandoned building not too far from the Aoyia and commenced the difficult feat of changing from her clothes into her uniform while staying inside the small cab of her truck. Difficult, but Misao was well-practiced and was soon ready. The jeans were replaced with black leggings and her shirt was substituted with a sky-blue tunic. He hair, which had been messily stuffed into her hat once more, was released, brushed, and braided. Then she pinned it back using two black sticks. Only when she looked mildly appropriate did she start driving again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Aoshi drove back to the Aoyia while thinking to himself. It seemed to him that Misao's attitude changed quite suddenly. Sometimes she was like the fires of hell, and other times she was almost nice. She went from bitch to girl and back again before he had time to process. Still, she was defiant and sarcastic, but at the same time she was smart and, denial wasn't worth it, beautiful. Also, Misao was talented in her art. It seemed like such a great life that she had, but she seemed so…unsatisfied.

The real question, though, was why he cared enough to think about it.

The answer was simple, he would simply stop thinking.

For a simple answer, it was harder than it sounded.

Another question bit at him. She had seemed so freaked out when her father came home, almost terrified out of her mind. It was unnerving to him. The girl had been defying him every step of the way that afternoon, why had she suddenly crumbled? To many questions with no answers. It left him frustrated, and with a headache.

Also bothering Aoshi--besides the self-pity at his own plights--was the lingering doubts about his English class. Given, he and Misao hadn't studied much of their first session, but even what they did start, he didn't understand any of it! All a bunch of 'thee' and 'thou' and 'woe'. He needed an aspirin just thinking about it. To think, he was going to be tested on that garbage next week! 

The only reason he cared was for graduation--and for Okina. He had passing grades in his old school, enough to graduate even if he failed the next two quarters in this school. Aoshi just didn't want to disappoint Okina and make him think that he was some kind of idiot, or worse, lazy. So he would go to these sessions, but there would be no more following Misao around like a lost puppy. After today's daring escape from her balcony, he was not going through that again! 

Still, there was that uncontrolled part of him that felt freer that afternoon then since his mother's arrest. It was good to get an adrenaline high every once in a while, in order to remember he was alive. Hannya was always saying how he was a stone wall. Sometimes it was good to break a rule or two. 

It was just as well that he arrived at the Aoyia. Further thought on this could lead to a serious problem resulting in a chocolate binge, or worse…a marathon of bad action movies. Then again, it could be worse. Upon entering the Aoyia, Aoshi waved his greetings to Okon as she served a few people who were seated for dinner, and retreated to his room. 

"Aoshi," Okina called from down the hall.

"Yes Grandpa?" he called, hanging his coat on the hook of his door to dry and coming back out. Okina was coming down the hallway, primping himself like he was going on his first date.

"Look strapping, my boy." Okina suddenly beamed like he had won the lottery. "You're meeting my favorite girl tonight." Suddenly, he looked around, as if someone was listening behind the corner. "Just don't tell the other girls, okay?"

"Whatever Grandpa," Aoshi said with a shrug. He smiled again, slinging an arm around his grandson's shoulders.

"Ah, such a good lad," Okina crowed proudly. Aoshi rolled his eyes and walked back down to the restaurant with his grandfather towing him along. "You like her Aoshi, I know you will," Okina began again. "Beautiful, this girl is, and sharp as a kunai!"

"Uh-oh," Okon laughed from behind the counter. 

"What?" Aoshi asked her with innocence. Okon, a pretty waitress in her late twenties, only smiled back at him and then looked to Okina. 

"His 'pretty Misao' is working tonight. Better watch out." She laughed again as she headed back to the kitchen. Aoshi, however, just stared as she walked away. Had she said Misao? No, it had to be another Misao. It was a common enough name. _She did say she had to get to work_, the rational part of his mind said. Aoshi's consciousness fervently denied it though.

"Hmph," Okina snorted. "You stay here, boy," he said to Aoshi before following Okon into the kitchen. That was when the door opened and the annoying chime went off. Aoshi turned.

"Sorry I'm late Gramps!" Misao called out as she took off her coat and hung it on the rack just inside the door. "I got stuck up at home." She paused at the mirror next to the rack, adjusted her hair, and turned around. Only to find herself face to face with Aoshi.

For a moment, there was silence in the Aoyia. It seemed like time itself had suddenly come to a screeching halt. There come moments like that in life, when one second, one moment in time can mean the difference between destiny and disaster. There are moments in time that people will never forget, as long as they live. Other, perhaps more important, memories will fade and go as the years pass, but some small, seemingly insignificant moment in a life can stay with a person for all time. This was one of those moments, even if neither realized it.

"**Gramps**!"

"**Grandpa**!"

Their yells made the patrons jump and the other waitress look up from her tray, narrowly avoiding dumping six Pepsi's on a guy's head. Okina burst forth from the kitchen and saw them standing there. They had already turned back to glare at each other.

"What are _you_ doing here?" they yelled in unison.

"What am _I _doing here?" they chorused in the next second.

"I _live_ here!" Aoshi responded angrily, hands balled into fists and blue eyes glinting dangerously. 

"I _work_ here!" Misao retorted, not backing down an inch. 

"Gramps!"

"Grandpa!" They both turned on Okina, who had been subtly inching his way back to the kitchen while their bickered. Now he was faced with not one, but two extremely hostile teenagers. He smiled rather weakly, making ready to bolt, but Okon blocked his way.

"No escaping this time, old man," she laughed. 

"Aoshi, Misao," he said calmly. "Perhaps we could talk about this….elsewhere." They looked around and then only just noticed they were shouting in the middle of the Aoyia. Grudgingly, Aoshi and Misao--keeping a good distance between each other--followed Okina into the kitchen and then outside.

"Now, tell me," he said once out there. "What is going on?"

Granted, the first few attempts at speech, they overrode each other, both trying to tell the 'real' story. Okina finally had to tell each of them when they were and were not permitted to speak. Needless to say, it took a while to get up to speed, but when he was caught up, he looked thoughtful. After a moment of thought, he spoke. "Misao, go back inside and start working."

"Yes, Gramps," she said and scurried inside to do as he said. Once she was gone, he turned to Aoshi.

"I tell you this once, my boy, and only once," he said seriously--the most serious Aoshi had ever seen him. "Do not get mixed up with Misao Makimachi. Go to your tutoring or whatever you need, but then leave. Do you understand me?"

Okina had never before ordered him to do something, much less forbidden him from anything. It was strange, and a little annoying, but he bowed his head. "Yes Grandpa." Okina reached up and patted him softly on the head. 

"That's a good boy."

They went back inside. Okina spent the remainder of the evening running around, teasing Misao and Okon, and charming the patrons. Aoshi spent the evening in his room, or in the restaurant, watching the others. Occasionally, Okon would get him to help her, but mostly he sat in the corner and watched. Misao took orders and brought drinks. She talked with some of the girls, and flirted with a few boys, but she seemed subdued in Okina's eyes. He also noticed way she would rub her ribs every once in a while, like she was in pain. He didn't mention it, knowing better, but it was sad to see.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Misao was waiting in the study room, just like the day before. And like the day before, her feet were propped on the table and her nose was in a book when Aoshi came into the room, lugging his guitar, and sat at the table pensively.

"Hello, sunshine," Misao said with a sugary-sweet smile. It was fake, but points were given for the effort. "I think I've come up with a better system for the story then me making you read and them telling you everything anyway."

"Oh really?" he commented as he picked up the waiting copy of the play.

"Here's the deal," she said, leaning on her elbows as she studied his face. He gave nothing away, but Misao was not deterred. "I'll explain each level of the story for you at once, and then we'll read over the play, piece by piece. It's really the only way to cover all of the material in such a small amount of time.

"I'm with you so far," he said with a nod, not really interested.

"I also have the movie," she added with a frown. "It might help."

"Movies are good," Aoshi said quickly. Misao figured as much. Most people preferred to watch a movie over reading anything. Who was she to change the youth of America?

"Before we get to the movie, we'll have to get the important parts of the story itself."

"Sure, whatever," he said in a disinterested way. He leaned back in his chair and waited. Misao sighed, internally disappointed. She didn't know why she had expected better of him. It was just that he seemed smarter than the average guy. She should have known better then to put that much faith in a person. In some ways, they always let you down.

"The story is broken into three main parts," she began. Misao took on a tutorial voice, very serious and dedicated to the material she was about to cover. It occurred to Aoshi just how passionate this girl was about some stupid play. As if reading his thoughts, she glared at him. "You're never going to get anything in that hollow head of yours, if you don't at least _pretend_ to pay attention."

"Fine," he said. "I'm listening."

Misao smiled and sat on the table Indian style, opening her paperback. "We already talked about the beginning," she said, flipping a few pages. "The wedding and the triangle of Demetrius, Hermia, and Lysander. Now, we enter Helena." She paused to look over the cover at him. "She's my favorite character, all dramatic and lyrical. Very devoted." 

"Yeah…"

Misao cleared her throat before continuing. "Anyway, Helena is in love with Demetrius, but he brushes her off for Hermia." Misao flipped a few more pages. "Helena and Hermia have been friends all their lives, so it is in Helena that Hermia and Lysander trust their plans. You see, they plan to run away together to go stay with Lysander's aunt, where they can get married without breaking the law. Helena, in an attempt to get into Demetrius' good graces, tells him they plan to elope, and that is how all four of them end up in the forest on one midsummer's night." 

And thus the beginning of their new truce began. Aoshi even took notes of Misao's explanation in order to understand better. Misao loaned Aoshi her hardcover copy of the play so he could read over what they covered at home. When the timer went off, they parted in silence. Misao returned to her home, while Aoshi returned to his music at the restaurant. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Misao got home, her father was already home--in the den with the door closed, talking with a few of his employees. She was thankful for it, and silently made her way upstairs. She took a shower, washing away the tension in her shoulders, before heading to her studio. She put on an old sweat suit, pinned her wet hair up, and set up a new canvas. 

Misao went over to the stereo in the corner of the room, and she set it on a low volume. She picked up a few separate brushes and a palette. Then she dabbed a few colors on the palette and set about her work. 

The open canvas looked out at her, almost calling to be filled, but her mind once more drew a blank of what to fill it with. She had been coming up blank a lot as of late. Her mind and her heart was just absent from her work, and it left her feeling hollow. A song on the radio started up, loud and pulsing. Misao went and turned it up.

Her reckless abandon was building again. Anger at her helplessness and fear, frustration at her inability to make it better, sadness when her eyes fell upon the painting of her mother. Her beautiful mother, smiling out from canvas with green eyes and freckles. Everyone, especially Okina, had always told her how much she looked like her mother. Misao never saw it. Her mother had been tall and beautiful and fair and lively. Misao was small and dark and worthless. It made her bitter. Bitterness made her angry, and that anger fueled her work.

With a loud backdrop of harsh metal music, Misao slashed paint across her canvas savagely. Stroke after angry stroke, she filled the white with color and feeling. She didn't care what it looked like or if there was any divine meaning behind it. All it was, was an outlet. The canvas was simply a way to let Misao breathe in a world that stifled her beyond all life. 

She couldn't be sure when the tears began to fall from her eyes. Maybe it was when she dropped the brushes and water to her drop cloth. Maybe it was when the palette fell and she just kept slashing. All she knew was that she kept going as long as she could before she dissolved, fell to the floor, and cried. 

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A/N: Okay, here is a chapter I wanted to get out pretty fast. The story is going to be leaping ahead a little bit faster now, so try and keep up! Now, for reviewer responses!

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Miz: Yes, I know. I wrote him to be that way. I agree, but, sadly, there are parents out there who do victimize their children. Some hurt them physically, and some hurt them emotionally or mentally. Hehe, I'm really happy that you like my story. And, you'll see more of it as the story goes, they are kind of each other's muses. You'll see!

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No one in particular: Thank you! I'm very pleased that you approve, lol. I like to keep my stuff as original as possible--and I know that there are ideas used over and over--but I like it fresh. Hope I can continue to amaze!

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Susan: I can not say how happy I am that I have a reader who is so devoted to my work! And here is another update for you! Enjoy! *beams in happiness*

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kitiara_uth_matar: All of Misao's fate will not be revealed for a while yet. I will update fast for you, worry not!

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Iane: Here is my update, I'll get the other up quick! Yes, I like polar couples who have talent with the arts. 

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Tiian: Yes, both kinds of fan fiction have their good points. As for the Misao/Soujiro friendship, I didn't do it because other do, I just did it because they are close together age wise. Plus, I love Soujiro! I have another fan fiction staring him and a sequel that's half-done. He's probably my favorite character. Anyway, I just can't see them romantic wise though, I am totally Aoshi/Misao. I'm glad you like my story so far, I've been putting a lot of though into it. I'm trying to make it realistic, like something that would go on in my own little town. Misao's character is very complex and she shifts a lot, it basically depends on what's around her. Normally, Misao is a friendly, kind person, but when she is threatened or scared or has recently been near her father, she gets defensive and often aggressive. I try to make Misao out to be feisty, but a little closed off. Yes, I admit it, I am a Shakespeare fiend. I have read a lot of his works and I am using my favorite one for pointers in this story, just so you know that all I'm talking about is true. Thanks for the review, I love answering people who ask questions and make comments, it's so fun! 

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Tamakia'gss: Yes, he is the villain of my little story, so it is only right to hate him. Everyone thinks that Aoshi should run off and save Misao. I am all for hero syndrome, but I will resolve it in my own good time, so don't worry people! Thanks for reading!

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Mariana-chan: Yes, you will get the full story of her father in another chapter, as well as more insight into Misao's life--and Aoshi's too. Ah, you are curious about the mural! Well, we'll get the finish product in a few chapters, so you'll have to wait, hehe. Thanks for the review!

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Allin656: I'm glad you approve. I'm liking this story pretty well. Don't worry, we have a relapse in their anger toward each other right now, but it'll work out better in the chapters to come. Can't have it all peaches and cream right off, now can I? Thanks for the encouragement, I hope you like what's to come!

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Silver Miko: I must say that I am a fan of yours, and am truly honored that you have deemed my lowly fic worth your reading time! Yes well, there is a special bond between a man and his coat. Everyone needs the romantic idea of Misao being rescued by Aoshi, but you'll see what goes down!

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Darkmoon0829: I'm so glad it met your approval! All of Misao's secrets will be revealed in due course, but you'll have to give me time. She's not going to just tell the whole story one stormy night…dammit! I let my plan slip. Oh well, you can keep a secret, right? Here is as soon as possible, good enough?


	5. Chapter 5: Life is Like a Song

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A/N: Well, here is another exciting episode of _Riffs and Canvas_! I'm really starting to like this story. Block-breakers are fun, so fun that I was actually able to write a lot this weekend! I updated two stories that I haven't touched in forever, and I'm still ready for more! Wish me luck my beloved readers!

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Disclaimer: I do not own the Rurouni Kenshin cast. If I did, I'd make the men dress in French maid costumes and serve me malted beverages while the girls, dressed like pirates, would swordfight for my amusement! *laughs manically*

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Riffs and Canvas

Chapter 5: Life is Like a Song

Whoever invented the day of the week called Thursday should be shot, in cold blood. Then disemboweled with a cooking spoon and left bleeding in the moonlight. At least, that was what Aoshi Shinomori thought as he walked into school that morning.

The sky was gray, complimenting his mood, with a chance of snow in the weather. Most likely it would be rain. Aoshi hated rain. He hated Thursdays. He hated school. Naturally, when one hates everything around him, he is in a less than cheery mood. That of course, is when the school welcome wagon caught up with him again.

"Good morning Aoshi," Kenshin greeted him. He and Kaoru had been sitting on the steps of the school, watching Megumi chase Sano around with a pointy object he could only assume to be a sharpened pencil. Now they had fallen into step beside him. 

"What's so good about it?" Aoshi grumbled in response.

"Ah, I think someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," Kaoru said with a shy smile. Aoshi scowled in her general direction.

"I hate Thursdays," he grumbled. The comment was not really directed to them, he was just talking out loud to keep himself sane. "They're too far from the weekend to relax, but close enough to taunt you." Once more he fantasized about murdering the creator of such a thing as _Thursday_. 

"I…kinda like Thursdays," Kenshin muttered in a low, defensive voice. Aoshi looked at him with a single eyebrow raised, but decided not to push it. He didn't want them hanging around him longer than necessary. Not that they weren't nice…they just weren't his kind of people. 

Last night Hannya had called him again, and they had been up late discussing what the Oniwaban group should do with their current predicament. So far, they came to now immediate solutions, and that left Aoshi in a grayer mood than usual. Aoshi half-listened as Kaoru and Kenshin chatted about all the school happenings, the latest news regarding everyone and everything. He held no torch for gossip and quickly withdrew into his own thoughts. 

When the three teens came upon Aoshi's locker, they noticed that a folded piece of notebook paper had been taped to the front. Aoshi grabbed it off the metal door and unfolded the paper. Kenshin and Kaoru read over his shoulder. Neat printed writing covered the plain page. He didn't recognize the writing, but the first lines gave away the author.

__

"Dear ice-man, Lorraine is closing the library early today due to a personal matter. I need you to stay behind with me in English class instead of our usual rendezvous. Misao."

Aoshi snorted and crumpled the paper in his hands while rolling his eyes. She had such a flare for the dramatic. It was equally annoying and amusing. He tended to put the annoyed foot forward.

"What's this about?" Kenshin asked after a moment.

"Nothing," Aoshi denied, opening his locker and rummaging a few books out.

"That note was signed by Misao. Don't tell me it was Misao Makimachi!" Kaoru exclaimed, looking excited for the news and fearful at the same time.

"So what if it was?" Aoshi asked while slamming his locker. "It's not like she's a leper." Both Kenshin and Kaoru's eyes widened twice their normal size. It was then the Aoshi realized the conclusion they must have jumped to and he inwardly groaned. 

"Do you mean to tell us," Kenshin said quietly, leaning in closer so no one around them could hear. "That you two are…._dating_?" 

"She's my tutor," Aoshi said with less interest than before. 

"Is that what they're calling it now?" Kaoru said with a giggle. Aoshi really wanted an escape now. The bell had just rung, calling him to his homeroom, but the two gossips had him pinned to his locker.

"Yeah, you caught me," he said with a sigh born of annoyance at the ignorance of teenagers. "Misao and I are secretly meeting in the library every day after school because, who can resist a girl as violent and frustrating as she is." With that, he pushed past the two stunned teens and headed toward his class.

"Oh my God," Kaoru whispered to Kenshin under her breath. "This is big."

"_Totally_."

"Normal spread?"

"Let's start with the Science hall and work our way out."

"Right!" Then they spilt. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Misao stood before her mural, a paintbrush caught between her lips and an open jar of black paint in her hands as she studied the wall. The background designs of musical notes, instruments stands and pages of music had already been outlined with the paint and left ready to fill with color. All Misao now had to do was the three figures, the center of her piece.

She had designed it as a band scene, three musicians occupying one stage. With grim determination she began the task of outlining the farthest figure. He was the smallest, the hardest to detail, but her hand was steady and she was following an internal pattern that never required her to take her eyes from the wall. The outline of the instrument--a violin--was almost complete when she received her first interruption. The second period bell to be exact. At the risk of utter destruction, she waited patiently--against her nature I might add--to continue her work once all the pedestrians were gone. 

She continued on the figure. His body was easy to structure, the facial features and the hair were the hardest part. When she was finished, she was pleasantly surprised by just how much the violinist resembled Soujiro. With a smile, Misao added a few finishing touches and began the second figure.

This was a female figure, a harpist. She sat, bent delicately over the instrument in her lap. Her long fingers gently plucked at the keys, making the figure look almost alive. On some whim, Misao decided to make the harpist herself, adding the long plait, the upturned nose, and the large eyes which would eventually become green. It was a self portrait she was proud of. 

It was the center figure that she was becoming nervous about. How was she to design it? She didn't know what instrument to bestow upon it. A cello perhaps? Or maybe a woodwind this time? Should it be a male or female figure? The rest of the period was taken up in reflection as she stared up at the figure, rigid in her silence and concentration. This was when her patience came into play, during the creative process. 

Misao was so caught up in her work that she failed to hear the third period bell ring, signaling it was time for her to get back to Tae and leave for her next class. People brushed past her without a word, but Misao was too deep in thought that she barely noticed.

She did notice, however, when a tall figure suddenly stood next to her, looking up at the wall. "You know," he commented lightly. "If you look at this long enough, you can almost see a sailboat."

Misao couldn't help but laugh. Sure, it broke her concentration, but her eyes had become unfocused anyway. "You cut me with your words," she said with a hand over her heart.

Aoshi shrugged, but noticed the open jar of paint in her hand and backed up a step. For a second, Misao was confused, but she followed his eyes and then laughed. Deftly, she covered the jar and gathered the rest of her things. "Second period over already?" she asked.

"Third started about five minutes ago."

"Shit!" she said suddenly. "I have a new painting to hand in." In her haste, she dropped a few of her things. Aoshi, thinking it only polite, gathered them up and followed her. Misao nodded her gratitude because never would she be caught thanking the fool. Aoshi wouldn't expect it. They walked in silence until they reached Tae's class. 

Upon entering the classroom, Tae smiled at Misao and accepted the supplies back. "Sidetracked?" she asked with a sly smile, looking at Aoshi, who was waiting in the hallway. Misao flushed at the insinuation and shook her head slowly. Then she grabbed her backpack and left without a word.

"I hate High School," she muttered, walking slowly down the hall.

"You aren't alone," Aoshi replied. "So tell me something," he demanded.

"Shoot."

"What is Lorraine doing that we can't use the library today?"

Misao smirked. "She has a date." Aoshi stopped and watched her continue on. Half of him believed it a joke, but she didn't have the gait of a liar, that triumphant edge that one got whether they noticed it or not when they lied or won. She simply walked. It had to be true.

"Who is she dating?" he asked, catching up. Sure, he really didn't care about gossip or rumors, but the snobby library who only seemed to like Misao was something he wanted to know about. 

"That's a secret," she said with another smirk. "But in the sake of secrey, I asked Mrs. Heike if we could use the room after class and she agreed. So we'll be in there today."

"For joy," Aoshi mumbled. Misao smiled quite suddenly. 

"Chin up, Icy," she said with mischief in her eyes. "It won't be dull today." She held up two fingers crossed and held them over her chest as she walked backwards in front of him. "Scouts Honor."

"Like you're a scout?" he countered.

"Trust me," she said. 

Aoshi watched her levelly for a moment. She seemed…almost playful this morning. Again he wondered just how she changed personalities so fast, and therefore wondered what she'd be like for their session later. That's when he stopped thinking about it because Misao's beauty was in motion again and he didn't have a reply for that. All he could do to salvage himself was a signature, "Whatever." 

Misao grinned. Then she turned and ran down the hall to her class. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The class filed out of the English room the second the bell rang. The teacher right behind the rest. Only three students lingered. Aoshi moved to the front, Misao to the chalkboard, and Soujiro following Misao, chattering about something in a low voice that Aoshi couldn't make out.

"I swear, if I hear those rumors again I'm going to kill someone!" Misao threatened in a low whisper. "Who the hell said that I was going out with him?"

"I don't know," Soujiro replied, hefting his backpack on his shoulder and shaking his head. "It's all over school. Every class I've been too has been whispering about how the Mayor's daughter is slumming with the new kid, city trash."

Misao went from a blush of embarrassment, to one of anger. "What right so they have to call him that?" she said fiercely. "So he didn't grow up here, but Gramps has been here forever! I hate this damn town."

"Careful Misao," Soujiro teased, his brown eyes alight with affection and amusement. "Someone might think you're defending him."

"Go to hell you little bitch," Misao laughed, pushing him away from her. 

"You know you love me," Soujiro laughed. Suddenly, he looked up at the clock. "Eep! I have to get to practice or Coach is going to fillet me." He leaned over and kissed Misao on the cheek.

"Stay strong 'Sao."

"Call me later. Bye Sou." 

"Of course!" he said with a grin and a wink.

Once Soujiro was gone, Misao hopped up on the teacher's desk and sat with her legs hanging off. "Shall we begin?" she asked Aoshi, who was lounging on a desk, the open book on his chest and his hands behind his head. 

"If you're finally done flirting," he said with disinterest, his blue eyes still closed. 

Misao bristled. Soujiro was a sensitive subject with her. "I told you, Soujiro is my friend, nothing else."

"So touchy," he said, smirking. "I just made a simple comment."

"Well you should watch it," she said, apparently less amused than he. "There are many people in this school who think we're dating."

That made him scowl and look up at her. "Yes, I've heard that." 

"Can we just get this over with then?" she asked again. He only shrugged, but sat up and ready.

"Ok, so we've covered the townsmen actor's guild, their practice, the potion, and the first of the forest capers. Where we pick up today is after the love potion was placed on Lysander and Demetrius."

"Whatever," was Aoshi's overwhelming response.

"Remember," Misao said, ignoring him completely. "The potion makes it so that the person infected with fall madly in love with the first thing they see. Oberon, the king of Faeries, had his henchman Puck fetch it. Why?"

"What?" Aoshi said, startled out of his daydream.

"Why did Oberon want the potion?" she asked again, a lingering smile on her lips.

"Because…her wanted to put it on Titania…the Queen?"

And why was that?" she questioned further.

"He wanted her to give him something, but she wouldn't do it. So, he got Puck to get him this stuff to put on her and voila, he'll take the boy while she's none the wiser." 

Misao smiled. "Good. It can be taught!"

Aoshi rolled his eyes, but was semi proud of himself. He was finally beginning to understand some of this stuff and it was making English class a hell of a lot easier on him. Plus, Misao was a good teacher. She was patient for the most part, and new the story front and back. She would give in-depth answers to any question. 

"Shall we continue?"

"Lets."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

An hour later, Misao was packing up her book with a pensive expression. He did so well in the beginning, but perhaps that had been a fluke. Now that they were getting into the very meat of the story, his attention span was slipping from the material faster than she could hold him there. It was frustrating.

"We'll, uh, pick up tomorrow," Misao said, clearing her throat.

"Sure," Aoshi commented, tossing the book in his bag and running his hands dejectedly through his hair with a sigh. What was Shakespeare smoking when he wrote this crap? He knew that Louis Carroll, the guy responsible for Alice in Wonderland was tripped up on Opium, but William had no excuse other than a lame idea for a joke. 

"Also," Misao continued, "Where do you want to study this weekend?"

"Weekend?" Aoshi parroted, looking up in surprise. "I never agreed to give up my weekend on this stuff!"

"We have a test a week from tomorrow," Misao reminded, her voice level but tempered with impatience. "We need to work all the time we have."

"I've got things to do," Aoshi said in a low and threatening voice. "Things that don't include all of this crap."

Misao met him head on, her green eyes narrowed in annoyance. "With an attitude like that, it's no wonder you need me."

Aoshi stood in front of her now, drawing his full height in an attempt to make her back down. Misao, who had been small her entire life, and quite used to intimidation tactics, was not in the least put out. "I don't need anyone," Aoshi said fervently. He drew strength upon the years he had spent supporting another life, of living his own. He was sufficient on his own, able to function well in a real world.

"Maybe not back in your city," Misao said scathingly, adding salt to a wound. "But here you're up to your neck in foreign people with things doing a complete one-eighty from all you know. Face it Aoshi, you are absolutely and utterly lost."

He flinched internally, not giving her the pleasure of knowing she was right. Instead, he bit back like a cornered animal. "Listen up, _princess_. You are the most irritating, spoiled, miserable female I have _ever_ had the displeasure of laying my eyes on!"

"And you are the most impossibly frustrating, ignorant, brooding creature I have ever laid _eyes_ on!" Misao yelled back. 

"You're such a bitch!"

"Idiot!"

"Weasel!"

"I hate you!"

"I hate _you_!"

They paused, the words and misplaced anger and frustration hanging about them in the air, thick as smoke. They could never begin to explain how all those words were hollow, just the growth of emotions too longer repressed that came surging up whenever they were near one another. An electricity seemed to dance around both forms, some sort of internal magnetism that brought out the worst in each of them, the truth to the surface. No barriers, no shields to protect, no walls to keep others out. Unintentionally, they were bared for each other to see, and they hated themselves for it. Fear drove them to defensive anger and anger drove them to something else entirely.

Neither could say who moved first, or perhaps it was that they moved together. Either way, one moment they were staring each other down, seething, wishing unpleasant things on the one before them. And the next moment, they closed the gap.

Their lips met in a torrent of heat, of broken tension, and near desperation. A desperation to feel something, anything, then what seeped into their souls from all corners. They were trapped, trapped by this town, by these people, by each other. 

One of Aoshi's arms was around Misao's small waist, pressing her against him as close as he could get. His other hand pulled the hat from her head, freeing the long fall of her soft hair, then threaded his fingers through it. He wasn't even thinking about what he was doing, it was as if his body was doing it for him, without request or consent. Just this once, he didn't think about the ten paces in front of him, he was utterly content with the one he was currently occupying.

Misao closed her eyes, arms snaking around his neck in an attempt to bring him closer to her. Her hands shook, suddenly overcome with that reckless abandon once more. This time she welcomed it, let herself drown in it, the same way she let herself drown in the taste of Aoshi, the feel of his frame against her own. For a girl who had never been kissed before--not really _kissed_ anyway--this was a perfect first. She had never known a girl could be kissed in such a way, with mouth and teeth and tongue. 

As suddenly as it had begun, it ended. As if only just realizing what they were doing, Misao and Aoshi sprang apart as if they had been shocked. Both panted, breathless and dizzy and frightened. Misao brought a shaking hand up to her mouth, as if not believing it was her own, her eyes wide. Aoshi swallowed, trying to think of something to say. Anything really, but nothing came. She had wiped his mind clean of all thoughts other than thoughts of her.

Misao was thoroughly shaken. All of her senses seem to encompass only the boy standing in front of her. That had never before happened to her. The first thought to come into her head, one that didn't involve Aoshi, was what would happen if her father ever found out. Would he be able to look at her and tell? Could he simply see it in her face? That she had let a boy kiss her…that she had kissed him back, and that she had liked it? Before further of this train of thought could continue, her mind was swamped once more with Aoshi because he was trying to talk to her.

"Misao," he attempted, but his voice sounded raspy in his own ears. He swallowed again, then tried once more. "I didn't mean…what just happened…"

Without a word, Misao grabbed her backpack and her hat, and ran from the room as fast as her legs could carry her. She had to get away, had to let her mind clear. If she looked at him again, Misao knew she would crack. She would lose her mind, lose herself. _Oh Misao_, her mother's voice whispered in her ears. _What have you done_?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

All Aoshi could do was try and go after her. She was small, but she was fast, and he was still unsure of himself in this place. It didn't take long for her to lose him, and Aoshi knew it. When he returned to the classroom, he took his guitar in hand and walked slowly from the building. His heartbeat had steadied, and his breathing was normal, but it didn't help. He could still taste her, still feel her like an echo. He could even smell her, the scent of her clung to his trench coat as a reminder. 

Maybe this was why his grandfather had tried to warn him. Misao was like a drug. She would get you high for a few moments, but then crash you against jagged rocks and leave you for dead. Did Okina know she could do that? Had she done it with others? Was that why people seemed wary of her, even when she was in one of her better moods? Had Okina known that with one kiss, Misao could change a person's life? Because Aoshi's life had been changed with that single, seemingly insignificant action. He was accustomed to hard truths in his life, but nothing could have prepared Aoshi for the fact that he had unintentionally fallen hard for Misao Makimachi.

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A/N: Okay readers, we have chapter 5! This was fun to write because I love writing arguments! (If anyone has read my Inuyasha AU _Tainted Blood_, you'll see my love of arguments!) I'll get chapter 6 out sometime during the week, probably Tuesday. Thanks for reading! And here are reviewer responses!

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Misao Mei Mei: I mentioned that it was 'A Midsummer's Night's Dream' in chapter 2 I believe. It's my favorite play to be exact. I can't write that fast, lol! But sometimes, if I get the urge, I can update once a day. There was a story that I used to update twice a day--but that was over the summer when I had no life. I usually like to update at least once a week, but this story is such fun! Thanks for reading!

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Silver Miko: No need to by formal! But I thank you again to the reviews.

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Mariana-chan: Aoshi is a little wrapped up in his own world, so he'll be lax to the father issues for a while. Fear not, he's not dumb and he'll soon put two and two together. The harsh thing is for fun. It's awesome to make them hate each other, but fall in love anyway, lol. What can I say? I'm a romantic. Thanks for reading, I hope you like this chapter too!

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Tamakia'gss: Ah, the wonders of a love-hate relationship. *sniffles* I just love those kinds of love though, it's never dull. I'm not big in the tragedies, except for Hamlet because I loved that one. I like the comedies. It's ok, I'm just a groupie of many strange things. It's not like I'd put a mob hit on you for not being a Shakespeare freak. I'm a big enough hone of the both of us, lol. 

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Darkmoon0829: I'm very pleased that you enjoy this story. I have read shin-no-shibo's stories, and loved them I might add, but to be placed in the same category with those is beyond my expectations. Thank you! (Because you make me feel so fuzzy, you are now my favorite reviewer--just don't tell the others!)

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Allin656: Thank you. I'm happy with how he is too. I hope this chapter is as acceptable as the last one though!

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Kitiara_uth_matar: Ah, making up and breaking apart is what makes a drama story so great! Relationships are so fun to write because they have a life of their own. As for Jinei, I made him that way in my story because I think he's a freak! Here is your update, enjoy!

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Susan: I'm so happy you are pleased with me and my work. Reviewer responses are my absolute favorites! I love reading what everyone says to me, so I think it's only right that I return the favor and tell you just how much I love you guys for reading my blood and sweat. *sniffles* It just means so much to me!


	6. Chapter 6: Snow God Deliverance

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A/N: Hey everyone! As promised, here is Chapter 6 of Riffs and Canvas. Before getting to the good stuff (sorry for the delay!) I was told by a few people that they didn't like how I rushed Aoshi and Misao together so fast. My reason behind it is simple--this story has only four to five chapters left. I have to rush them along a little bit, sorry if that's annoying to some of you guys, I just love using divine intervention to make them do what I want. Muhahahahah! I play God…old habit you know. They did get together a little fast, I feel I should have waited on it a little, but if I am to follow the plot line in my head, I held it off as long as I could, but I had to do it. Anyway, here's the chapter, enjoy!

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Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin or Blindside, but I like to make them do things, he-hehe-hehehe!

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Riffs and Canvas

Chapter 6: Snow God Deliverance

From dusk on Thursday until dawn on Friday, it snowed. Snowed fiercely with no sign of letting up and no chance at getting out the next day. Schools were closed, stores were closed, even roads were closed against the sudden onslaught of weather. 

Normally, Aoshi would have welcomed the extra day of rest--he did enjoy his sleep--but Friday he had no patience for it. He prowled the Aoyia--which was closed due to the weather--like a caged animal. Okina was the only other person there, and he knew enough to stay out of his grandson's way when he was so deep into his brooding mode. He happily went about the day in his office, doing paperwork and counting his money. Okina was just a weird guy like that. 

Aoshi tried to concentrate on his guitar, hoping that music would let out some of the frustration and foreign emotions that were wedged in his chest. Music, his outlet of emotion for as long as he could remember, did nothing for him that day. After a while of tuneless strumming, he had to distance himself from it. There was nothing there. No inspiration or even eagerness to play. He felt strangely guilty, like a child touching something he knew he shouldn't be touching. But that was wrong! The guitar was his, he was supposed to touch it. Still, he couldn't bring himself to do it, to take that step.

For some reason, he centered upon the hardcover play Misao had lent him, sitting forlornly on his desk like a beaten animal. It was calling to be read, to be known. He was sure that Misao had probably kept it, loved and often read, on a shelf by her bed. Or perhaps that was one of the books he had seen squirreled away in her studio, near the tank and her snake.

Without knowing why, he took up the copy of the play and retreated downstairs to the empty restaurant. He hit one of the light switches, grabbing a soda from the kitchen, and settled in one of the comfortable booths in the back. Aoshi, feet propped on the table and a long straw leading from the coke on the table to his mouth, read the Shakespearian play for the first time without being told.

As expected, he didn't understand a lot of what was going on. A bunch of faeries and bumpkins and runaway lovers assaulted him with lyrical words and professions of love. After a while, Aoshi surprised himself by finding an internal rhythm to the play itself. The lines seemed to hold a kind of beat, almost like the hidden melody of a song. Misao had told him about that once before, about how all of Shakespeare's works were just long poems, and poems were just songs without music. 

He hadn't believed her at the time, of course, but now he was starting to see what she meant. He also began to understand why she was so taken by the character of Helena. She was a sad girl, trying to find a way to make her true love love her back. It made him wonder.

Aoshi was suddenly feeling angry with himself. He had no reason to feel angry about what happened the day before between him and Misao. One minute they were fighting…and the next…? It was just in the heat of the moment. And he hadn't taken advantage of her or anything. She was a willing participant! Then she had just bolted out of there like she was afraid he was going to do it again, or worse. 

Honestly, it was the look in her eyes that made him feel as wretched as he did. She had looked for horrified. Not of him, more of herself. And there was something else that haunted her green eyes, eyes he noticed up close had a little blue in them. It was the look of a nameless fear, and it made something in him want to protect her. 

This was such a strange feeling to him. All his life, Aoshi had looked after himself. He had the Oniwaban gang, but the other guys could look after themselves. They joined together because it was safer that way. They were friends because they trusted each other, but if one got down to it, they didn't need each other's protection. They confided, sure. They fought, definitely. The fact was, all of them had grown up in a place where you learned to look after yourself, and your family, or you could end up dead. Aoshi had looked after his mother, but he despised him for it. So after a while, he stopped. So he had lived for himself alone.

Now, there was this girl. This frustrating, temperamental, haunting, beautiful girl who made him do, say, and feel things he had never done, said, or felt before. It was new and a little scary, but the most frightening thing of all was that Aoshi didn't want it to go away. He liked the feeling he got when Misao was near him, when she was reading Shakespeare, or explaining poetry to him, or yelling at him. 

All he had to do was close his eyes, and he could see her glaring at him. Surprisingly, she was at her prettiest when she was angry at him. 

He growled at himself in frustration, snapping the book closed and loudly dropping it on the table top. Roughly, Aoshi got to his feet and stormed into the kitchen for another coke. Halfway back to the table, his hand began to twitch with the sudden urge to get his guitar. Never one to deny impulse, he put his soda down and fetched his prized instrument from his room. The Aoyia was absent, no one would be the wiser if he just strummed a little. Okina was upstairs, as long as he was relatively quiet, the old man would never no the difference.

So he took up his position on the counter like he had the other day. Tuning, strumming to get it just right, Aoshi racked his brain for a favorable song. A few filtered through, but one lodged itself in his mind. He ran his fingers quickly over the strings, playing out the beginning riffs by heart. It was, oddly enough, a song that reminded him of the very girl he was trying to keep out of him mind. Oh well, why fight it if it helps with musician's block?

"As I recall with my stomach turning, I was hiding away from myself, away from you." Aoshi keep his voice low and even. He did, after all, have a fairly awesome singing voice, but he didn't want to disrupt his grandfather from his aspirations of make the world's longest paper clip chain. "Like nothing, though something was terribly wrong. And I admit that I was only waiting for the right time, night time, the right moment for you to look away, though you never did. I pretended for a while, so I could walk where I don't belong. And I remember every word you said, come back in time, come back. And I remember I would soon be dead, now so pitiful, so pitiful."

Music is harder than most people realize. It's a lifetime of writing what you feel and what you know, but knowing how to express it without truly giving in to the feelings. If Aoshi let go of his control, his voice would most likely crack, or go off key. Singing from the heart was one thing, but getting so lost in the song could ruin it before it has even begun. 

"But I know as I hammered those nails into your beautiful hands, your eyes still try to search for mine, but I look away. Now your eyes are the only thing that can save me, I'm still so afraid of them piercing. You're breaking into my prison. Just pretended for a while, my soul is dying. I won't look away. And I remember every word you said, come back in time, come back. And I remember I would soon be dead, now so pitiful, so pitiful." He left off to continue into the solo, long fingers flying deftly over cords long memorized for a melody engrained into his mind for a lifetime of playing. "And I remember every word you said...I'll remember every word you said. This time I won't look away. And I remember every word you said, come back in time, come back. And I remember I would soon be dead, now so pitiful, so pitiful."

He ended on the low note, letting it echo through the empty room with a haunting lit. For a moment, at the high of the song, it took him away from these confusing and conflicting thoughts. But it was not nearly long enough. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Misao sat in her studio, Seraphim resting comfortably around her neck. His presence was a loving veil to keep out the world. As long as she was in this place, all that was there was her memories and her pet. This was a place where her father didn't exist. Where Aoshi didn't exist. Where none of the strange and scary things bubbling inside of her could have any effect. This was her haven, her place of refuge. Out of pure stubbornness, she would allow nothing to pass through the invisible barrier that kept her hidden in this, her own little world. 

Her father had seen. He hadn't noticed the way she shook last night at dinner, or now the blush on her cheeks just wouldn't fade, no matter how many times she washed her face and stopped thinking about what happened in the empty English classroom. He hadn't any clue. Something was happening at the office and his attentions were far from Misao. She was thankful for it.

He also informed her that he was going away the following weekend, and that she had to remain home. Jineh would be accompanying his employer, so there was no one to watch her. Misao had contested that she was old enough to look after herself, and he had surprisingly agreed. Misao guessed that he was too tired to hit her, so she took solace in her bravery.

The fact that she had Friday off because of the snow gave her a sort of inner joy. She couldn't have bared facing Aoshi just yet. He was an entire different story. Misao might have been brave enough to face her father over a weekend at home, but the rest of her thoughts were seeped in self doubt and childish fears. 

"Oh Mom," Misao sighed, looking to the painting with troubled eyes. "I wish you were here." Seraphim's cool skin slide across her bare neck as his head slithered back toward his home. Misao got to her feet, nearly fell off balance due to the weight of snake bulk on her body, but caught herself in time. She returned him to his home and walked to her wall of drawings.

Misao ran her fingers over the face of her mother's portrait. Instead of warmth, there was only the rough feeling of canvas and dried paint. How she longed to hear her mother's voice. Her true voice, and not just the conscience she heard deep within her own mind to comfort her when she was scared. She wished to hear her mother's laugh again. In all her life, Misao had never loved anyone as much as she loved her mother, Sae Makimachi. Only to have her mother robbed from her life when Misao was eleven.

That was when her father had began to hit her. For a while, Misao had thought it was because of her mother's death, that he blamed her for it every bit as much as Misao blamed herself. That was until she realized that he had beat her mother as well. Maybe Misao was only meant as a replacement for her dead mother, just something to have around to control and beat and break. She never knew. (A/N: But we will know--not until chapter 9--but we will know!)

"If you were here," Misao whispered in the silent room. "You'd tell me what to do, wouldn't you? You'd know what I could do to make things better." Misao laughed bitterly, shaking her head as her hand fell away from the canvas. "But you're not here, are you Mom?"

If she listened close, Misao almost heard a heavy sigh. It was probably her imagination. That was when the phone rang. There was only one person who always seemed to call when she was feeling particularly low--she suspected him of psychic powers.

"Hi Sou," Misao said into the phone, a smile coming to her face.

"How do you always know it's me?" he whined, and sounded like he was eating something.

"You always call when I'm depressed," Misao said matter-of-factly. 

"Oh yeah," he laughed. "I forgot." Misao rolled her eyes and looked at the clock on her drawing table. It was near dinner time. Her father had gone out--against the winter snow warnings--and should be back in about an hour. It gave her a good amount of time to talk with her friend. Her only friend.

"So tell me 'Sao," Soujiro said into the phone. "What were you brooding over now?"

"I'm glad I amuse you," Misao said sourly when she heard the humor in his voice.

"Aw, Misao! You slay me with your unkind words. I am simply asking about the health and well being of my very best friend!"

"You're such a brat Soujiro," Misao laughed, sinking to the floor against the wall. "I'm better now that I have you as a distraction."

"Really, are you ok? You're dad being an asshole again?" Soujiro was a smart guy, one of the only people who had ever been smart enough to figure out that Misao's father wasn't right, though he didn't know about the abuse. Misao had never told anyone about it, but a few guessed. She never confirmed or denied.

"Surprisingly no," she said. "He's busy at work and letting me out on a longer leash. He's also going away next weekend and I have the house to myself."

"Kick ass! Party at Makimachi's!" 

"Go to hell," Misao laughed.

"So what are you brooding over if your Dad is being good?"

"If I tell you something Sou," Misao said in a serious whisper. "You have to swear you'll never tell anyone. Under pain of death!"

"I promise," he said sincerely, but eagerly.

"You swear on the snow gods? Under pain of sacrifice?"

"If I ever break this promise, may the snow gods smite me with their powdery white goodness," Soujiro said and she was positive he was holding up his right hand. 

"Yesterday, after you left for practice, Aoshi and I had our normal Shakespeare session, right?"

"Ok, I follow," Soujiro said, leaning forward as if she was in front of him rather than across town.

"Well, we got into this huge argument afterwards, usual for us."

"Yeah," he agreed with a snicker.

"Listen dick, you gonna let me finish?" There was no further interruption, but she heard him stifling his laughter. "I don't know what happened really. One second we were swearing eternal hatred upon each other, and the next thing I know…"

"What?" Soujiro prompted.

"We were kissing, right there, in the middle of the English room!" Misao cried suddenly, falling forward and covering her face as if the entire school was watching her. Soujiro didn't reply for the longest of times and Misao was scared he had hung up on her. "Sou, say something."

It was the pleading note in her voice that brought him out of his stupor. "Wow," was all he could say. "I mean…wow!"

"Don't mock me Soujiro."

"I'm not, but Misao…You're first kiss was in the English room! That's amazing!" Suddenly he laughed. Not a ridiculing laugh, just a happy laugh like one gives when they caught a friend doing something wrong. "With the new kid," he taunted lightly in a sing-song voice.

Misao groaned. "I know, I know."

"Do you like him?"

The question caught her off guard. She had been asking herself that all day and the answer, like it had before, came strong and immediately. "Yeah, I do." It was a whispered confession never before said aloud. 

Soujiro smiled to himself. "I'm happy for you, 'Sao."

"I wish I could be," she grumbled.

"Why aren't you?" he countered. "You like him. I bet of he kissed you, he likes you too. Why aren't you stoked like any other girl would be. Especially since," he rose his voice to a high, girly sound. "He's so cute and junk."

Misao laughed, the weight on her shoulders leaving her form. If there was one person in the world who could take away her doubt and fear, it was Soujiro. The only boy in the world who could always make her laugh. "I am happy, but I'm just a little freaked out."

"Aw well, that's understandable. Just remembered to use protection, because you're sleeping with everyone he's ever slept with."

"Soujiro!" Misao yelped in astonishment. He cackled. "Asshole. I'll talk to you tomorrow." She didn't give him a chance to mutter a response before she hung up on him. Her face was red and her arms were crossed over her chest. She wouldn't let it get to her. The only problem was, it did.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Monday, the most hated day of the student's week. Everyone, still wearing off the high of a three-day-weekend, seems more subdued than usually to be walking the halls at 7:30 in the morning. Aoshi is no acceptation. After an almost sleepless weekend, he's more tired than ever. Only the thought of a snowstorm blowing in on Thursday lifted his spirits. 

There are times in life when time more undeniably fast, and other times when it moves decidedly slow. How it works it that when you want time to race by, it will crawl. And when you want it to last forever, it will come before you want it. That is what Aoshi's day was. He was dreading his tutoring session that afternoon, dreaded facing Misao again, but time seemed to slip from him and before he noticed, the 12th period bell was ringing and they were once more left in the room alone. Soujiro had skipped out moments before, praying a basketball practice, but the wink he gave Misao that caused her to pale made him suspicious. 

"Well," Misao said slowly. "I doubt you read anything over the weekend, so we have to rush a little if we want to be ready for Friday's test." 

"Actually," Aoshi commented as they walked to the library together. "I did read over the weekend. I actually finished the play. But it's a good idea to cram extra for the test."

Misao looked up at him, her eyes wide in surprise. She read truth in the depths of his dark blue eyes and a delighted smile bloomed on her face. Aoshi had been struggling for meaning all weekend behind why he kissed Misao. His evidence was right there.

Misao's smile diminished under his stare and she had to look away. They walked in silence to the library, quietly greeted Lorraine who was deep into a new romance novel, and made their way to their usual room. Misao taught, Aoshi listened and answered, same as they always did. This time was different because of the tension that hung in the air around them like a thick cloud. 

By the time the lesson was finished, Misao's hands were shaking so bad she had to hide them in her pockets and Aoshi couldn't seem to take his eyes of that very interesting tile on the floor. It was awkward and worst of all, hindering their work. That's what pissed Misao off the most.

Finally, out of pure frustration, she snapped as they were getting ready to leave. "This is ridiculous!"

"What is?" Aoshi asked, still not able to look at her.

"This!" Misao raged. "You, me…this entire situation has been blown so out of proportion we can't even concentrate! This is obviously some form of…sexual tension," she stated despite the blush that crept up her neck. "When two people work together, they get feelings that aren't really there due to a tension of project and stress."

Aoshi was finally able to lift his eyes to her and Misao shivered a little when she noticed they held a sort of smoky, far away look. "What do you propose?"

She blurted the first thing that came into her head. "Kiss me again." Stunned at her own words, but determined not to run away like a scared little girl this time, she met his eyes in spite of the heat radiating from her face. "It'll lessen this stupid tension and them we can get over it, continue our work, and then be done with it."

Aoshi narrowed his eyes at her. "Are you asking to be kissed.

"Are you afraid to comply?" she countered. Bold words for a nervous wreck. 

His smile was quick as lightning, and just as dangerous. "If the lady asks," he said, placing his guitar on the table and taking a step closer to her.

Misao stepped back. "You aren't going to fight me on this?"

He halted. "Are you regretting your our suggestion?"

"No," she said stubbornly. "I just didn't think you'd take me up on it." There, it was said, and she felt like a little fool. Aoshi suddenly smiled and the shock of it shuddered down to her toes. Dammit! It wasn't fair that he looked that good. There should really be a law or something. When a guy has eyes that blue and black hair and bangs that fall into his eyes in such an annoyingly sexy way…it's so not fair!

And yet, he wouldn't be half as interesting if he wasn't so damn gorgeous--especially while brooding. Misao tingled down to her toes when he took another step closer. When she didn't back away, he took another and another until he was standing in front of her. Misao lifted her face, offering an invitation that Aoshi would never have denied. In doing so, they were lost to the world around them.

There was a moment when Misao internally panicked. The voice in her mind swirled in her ears. _Misao, this is wrong. You defy too much Misao._ But she silenced it. There are times in a girl's life when she defies the rules she has lived by all her life, just for a little excitement, and for the chance at the 'forbidden guy.'

Aoshi had an initial moment of hesitation as well. He thought of what his grandfather had said, about not getting involved with Misao. He tried to be strong, to resist the pull of her eyes, but when she invited him to kiss her, there were no powers on earth that could have stopped him.

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A/N: Okay, chapter 6 is done. What will happen next you wonder? Wait and see, haha! Chapter 7 will be out in a few days, Friday most likely. Thanks for you patience! And now, time for reviewer responses!

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Allin656: I'm very happy that you liked Chapter 5 and I hope 6 was good too. (I really enjoyed writing the Misao-Soujiro conversation, heh) I love Kenshin and Kaoru too, but I can totally see them being the gossipers. It's not like they're mean or anything. It's a dirty job, but someone has to do it! 

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Silver Hanyou1: Thanks! I too like how Misao has come out. I always hate it when people make her out to be a brainless bubble. Misao's character maybe a little immature, but she has real depth and strength! She's the kind of girl that anyone would want to know!

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Tiian: Hehe, arguments are just smashing fun. Yes well, I had to make Aoshi prickish for a while, he does get better! I swear to the snow gods! As for the Kenshin-gossip factor, I can totally see Kenshin, master of all that is good a pure, having a weakness with the spreading of gossip. He's always made out to be Saint Kenshin, and although he's not a bad guy, I wanted to make him that annoyingly friendly guy you want to hug and kick at the same time. Thanks for reviewing!

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Nekonomiko: I'm so happy that you like my story. I hope this chapter keep you as interested as the ones before it. Oh, there are surprises to come, that there are! Thanks for the offer and I hope my e-mail got to you!

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Susan: Lol, I'm glad you liked it. I was scared everyone would be outraged with me since I was feeling a bit rushed and my romance isn't that great--I'm an action writer who took a trip down drama lane, eck! It's my personal favorite Shakespeare play so I thought it was only proper.

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Silver Miko: I'm so happy you approve! I'm not that good with the romantic stuff, so I was a little leery because everyone knows Aoshi/Misao fans are sticklers for excellence. I hope I did you proud! Also, I think it's the funniest thing in the world when the guys fall in love first. Usually it's the girl and they're all sad about it, I just love how guys are always brooding and beating themselves up over it, haha!

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Tamakia'gss: I'm happy you liked the kiss. Oh, that's not really Misao's mother talking to her, lol. It's Misao's conscience. I just say it sounds like her mother for dramatic and sentimental purposes. (Such as, whenever I do anything bad, I hear my grandmother's voice in my head calling me a 'dang fool' if I don't put that Cadbury egg back, lol)

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Darkmoon0829: I'm happy that you liked this chapter. So many people were pleased, gives me the fuzzies once more. I'm really, really happy that everyone was so happy with my kiss scene. You have no idea how nervous I was to write it at first. Aoshi/Misao fans are top choice and I had to have the best writing for them. 

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SeaBreeze: Lol, I'm happy that you approve. I'm always looking for new people to worship me, lol. I'm gld you like my stories--I'll be sure to check out yours--thanks for reviewing!

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Weasel1029: I'm glad you like my story weasel! And let me say you're pen name is choice! I aim only to please my readers because it is a well known fact that Aoshi/Misao fans are especially picky when it comes to excellence.

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Naivety: Don't die, here's more. Hope you liked it as much as the rest of the story so far! Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7: A Little Close For Comfort

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A/N: Friday, as promised…though it's out a little later then I thought it would be. I've been working on a project for school the last few days--a Lord of the Ring's parody for my Fantasy writing class. Also, I've been working collaborating with another author on a future Aoshi/Misao fic called _Safer On The Outside_. It's going to be really awesome and you'll all have to check it out. The first chapter goes up this weekend if she can get it back from the beta in time! 

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Disclaimer: I do not own anything Rurouni Kenshin. If I said I did, I would be a liar, and therefore, no longer worthy to be read.

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Riffs & Canvas

Chapter 7: A Little Close For Comfort

The world works in many mysterious ways. Sometimes it's only a burnt out light bulb that stands between a person and seeing the face of their murderer. Or the fact that they stopped to pick up a quarter on the street just as a drunk driver turns the corner. It can surprise you when you least expect it, like thinking about a person moments before you find out something terrible has happened to them. That's what happened to Misao Makimachi.

For some reason, when she woke up on Thursdays morning to find that a blizzard was brewing outside her window, all she could do was think about that day when she was eleven years old. When she had walked through the front door after getting a ride home from a friend's mother, and saw the police in her kitchen. All that was in her mind was the day her mother had died.

It began to snow shortly after sixth period, and it snowed so hard they sent the students home early. There was already talk of school being called off the next day. She was happy about that. Misao was a girl who never refused extra sleep. The only thing she did regret was her daily session with Aoshi. There test was supposed to be tomorrow, but with no school, it'd be pushed to Monday. They would have more study time.

That was when her devilish brain began to work.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Aoshi got home easily enough. The bad thing was that the Aoyia was officially closed due to snow. Okon and her daughter, Omasu the waitress, they all went home. Meaning Misao would not come by tonight. Meaning, he wouldn't get a chance to see her until Monday. 

On the plus side, no more Shakespeare lessons--even if he was starting to enjoy them. Bad side, no 'extra credit' from Misao. He sighed, tapping his fingers on the tabletop in the empty restaurant. 

Okina was, once more, up in his office, working as hard as ever on his paperclip chain. Aoshi was left to his own device, and he hated being bored. He was tempted to go get his guitar. It was calling to him in that soft voice, pleading to be strummed. He didn't have the heart to ignore it much longer, especially when his head was full of music because of a certain green-eyed girl he was missing.

It was strange, to come to like someone so fast. It was especially odd considering that the week before, he had hated her. Within the space of two weeks, Aoshi Shinomori found himself more and more captivated by this girl. It was not just her eyes, no matter how haunting they were, or the way she looked. It was also her attitude, her spirit, and her art, so complex and kin to his music. It was almost like they were kindred spirits, but then he shook his head at the absurdity of such a thing.

Next thing you know, Aoshi would be professing boundless love and believing in 'happily ever after's again. That had left with his childhood years ago. A childhood he had no temptation to relive. He was quite content with his current present, especially if that meant bothering Misao with pointless questions and watching her draw out of the corner of his eye. He got the feeling that she liked drawing him, because it seemed that whenever he was reading aloud, or otherwise occupied, one of her many sketchbooks were out and she was scribbling with a vengeance. 

If he helped her with art half as much as she had inspired his music, then Aoshi would consider himself content. So content in fact, that he could resist it no longer, and followed the song of his guitar. He was almost there too, only a few paces from his room, when the phone rang. 

"Aoshi, can you get that?" Okina called. "I'm a little tied up." Aoshi walked past the office and saw his grandfather was indeed, wrapped in a chain of paperclips, looking quite determined as his tongue stuck out between his teeth in thought of where to attach the next clip. Aoshi shook his head and picked up the phone.

"Aoyia Restaurant," he intoned, as was accustomed. 

"Hi Aoshi," Misao said from the other end. She was sounding particularly cheerful. "Have you looked outside?"

"At the snow?" he asked with a raised eyebrow--even though she couldn't see it. 

"Yes at the snow!" she said. He could almost _feel_ her roll her eyes at him. It did a guy's heart good to know that he could always annoy his muse. "It stopped about an hour ago. All the roads have been plowed."

"What's your point?" he skipped, knowing she was up to something.

"Wanna come over?"

Aoshi, for a moment, was quiet. Did he hear her right? After last time's daring escape from the backyard, there was no way in hell he'd be doing that in snow. "I don't think so Misao," he said with reluctance. 

"Come on, it's ok," she assured him. "My father left this morning for the city. He won't be back until Sunday night."

"Is this going to be another 'he works late' fiasco that sees me climbing down a deck?" he asked with a little irritation.

"No, I promise," she said sincerely. "I know my dad. When he says that he'll be gone for the weekend, he's not coming back even if I were to burn the house down. Plus, the snow will keep him in the city till at least tomorrow."

"I don't know," Aoshi said, still doubtful. 

"Come on, we can finish up our studying. I have the movie remember?"

Aoshi sighed, defeated. "Ok, you wore me down." 

"Yay!" Misao cheered happily. "It'll be nice to have company apart from Seraphim."

"The snake right?" 

"Yup, the snake. I would have made Sou come over, like I usually do, but he's sick."

"So I'm second choice?" Aoshi asked with wry amusement. 

"No, you were first this time," she said with a smile in her voice. "I was only thinking of who I would bother if you wouldn't leave the Aoyia."

"A likely story."

"So you'll be here in a little while?"

"Sure." Then they hung up.

Aoshi was not aware that Okina had hopped out of his paperclip chain and come to the door of his office to listen in on the phone call. A frown was fixed on his features as he watched Aoshi grabbed his trench coat from the rack near the door. He shrugged in on while he retrieved his guitar from his room. Aoshi paused long enough to look at Okina.

"I'm going out for a while Grandpa."

"To Misao's house?" Okina said in a disapproving tone.

Aoshi had the decency to look a little like a deer caught in headlights. "We're going to finish our studying for the test tomorrow." Okina knew as well as both students that there would be no school, but he held his tongue. 

"Where is Misao's father?"

"Out of town for the weekend," Aoshi replied. "Why?"

"No chaperone…suspicious."

"Grandpa," Aoshi sighed. "We won't do anything. We're going to work, that's all."

Okina nodded and Aoshi left. He watched with an almost despairing expression, walking back into his office. He paused long enough to take a framed photograph from his desk and hold it in his hands. 

The photo showed a teenaged boy of around eighteen years, tall and lanky with a head of dark blue-black hair and a smile. Next to him on the left was a smaller girl, maybe about seventeen years. Her hair and skin was fair, and her deep green-blue eyes looked excitedly at the boy beside her. On the other side of the boy was a younger girl, perhaps fourteen or fifteen, with brown hair and eyes. She was also looking at the boy with the same expression of excitement and admiration. But the boy was looking at the green with the green eyes. 

Okina ran a finger over her figure. "Sae," he said with a wistful tone to his voice. "If only things had been different." That's when he looked at the younger girl and the anguish replaced the glassy look to his eyes. "Aiko, my dearest daughter…if I had only known what was in your heart, maybe things could have been different."

'What Ifs' and 'Could Have Beens' weighed heavily on Okina until he snapped from the tense anger. With a force that would have shattered the glass of the frame had it not fallen onto his chair, Okina flung the picture from him. "I will not let him take Misao! Do you hear me?" he shouted into the dark and silent building. "You won't get Misao!"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Wow, you really did come," Misao said with surprise when Aoshi knocked on her door. In the time it took him to get to her house, it had started snowing again. It was not a good omen.

"Well you invited me, didn't you?"

"No one ever takes up my offers," she said with a shrug, taking his snow-covered coat and hanging it in the closet. 

"Why is that?" Aoshi asked, resting his guitar case on the floor for a moment.

"Why did you bring that?" Misao asked, pointing to his guitar and tactfully changing subjects.

"I keep the book you loaned me in here."

"Oh." There was a few moments when they did nothing, said nothing, just stood in silence. "Well then," Misao said as if trying to expel the shivers running up and down her spine at seeing him in her house. "We should get to the movie." 

"Whatever," Aoshi replied characteristically, following her into a large living room with a home entertainment center. 

The DVD was already in the player, ready to begin. Aoshi slumped on to the large leather couch comfortably. Misao joined him, her feet curled up beneath her, looking quite ordinary in the settings. This was how the upper class lived, he decided. They were like chameleons in their own environment, able to change color, in Misao's case personality, to whatever suits their will.

She started the movie and they watched. Aoshi had to admit that it was much easier to understand while seeing it and hearing it acted out, rather than trying to do it himself, even with a great teacher like Misao. 

She disappeared a few times. Once to get food and drinks, another two times to answer the phone. The first had been from Soujiro--who happily baited her once she told him that Aoshi was in her house watching TV with her. The second time, it had been her father. Just checking in, as he said, but there was a tightness in his voice that made Misao wonder just what he was doing--and just what he knew.

By the time she was off the phone with him, the movie was over. Aoshi stretched out on the couch and watched as Misao moved around, deep in thought.

"The movie was really good," he commented lightly. "What was it like where you are?"

"Huh?" Misao asked. She blinked, shook her head, and smiled. "Sorry. I'm a little out of it right now."

"I can tell," he said with a nod. "Tell me about it?"

Misao sighed deeply, that sigh from the center of her chest, as she flopped gracefully on to the couch beside him. "My father called to check up on me, that's all. He's…not my favorite person, if you catch my drift."

"Yeah, so I've noticed." He wouldn't ask why. Fathers were not a subjected he liked either.

"I think that he might know you're here. Not much he can do about it though, considering the snowstorm going on outside. There's no way he'll get anywhere near this town until at least Saturday. The roads will be jammed to death."

"This is a good thing?"

"Yeah, two full days without my father around is like a vacation. Even if I am stuck with you," she added as an undertone, smiling.

Aoshi rolled his eyes. "Aren't we full of wit tonight."

"I try," Misao responded. "However, on a more serious note, I don't think you should get on to the roads tonight."

"Why?" he asked, getting up and heading to a window. "It can't be _that _bad out." It was . "So you propose I stay here for the night?"

"No, you should sleep in your car," Misao said happily, a smile on her face but seriousness in her eyes. Aoshi narrowed his eyes at her in an annoyed manner. "Ok, you can take the couch," she muttered. She held up her hands in a peaceful manner.

"I should call Grandpa and tell him…he won't be happy." Aoshi picked up the phone from the cradle, dialing the number for the Aoyia with a grim expression.

"Let me do the talking," Misao said as she snatched the phone from him. "Hi Gramps!…Yes, we're behaving…No…Yes…Gramps! He's staying here tonight, have you looked outside?…No, I'm not making him drive!…No Gramps…Yes Gramps…Bye Gramps." By the time she hung up, she was scowling and very red. "Your grandfather is a pervert," she muttered as she walked from the room.

"Where are you going?" Aoshi called after her. 

"To get changed," she called back. "I've got some spare clothes you can use. Just wait a minute." So he did.

When Misao returned, she was in a comfortable pair of baggy flannel pants and a baggy old shirt-sleeved shirt. Her hair, for once, was unplaited and unhidden as is hung loosely around her shoulders and down her back, all the way to her hips. This was Misao at her most beautiful.

In her hands, she carried a pile of folded clothes. "Here," she said, handing them to a startled Aoshi. "They'll probably be a little big. Gramps used to stay the weekends with me when Dad was out of town, so he'd leave his clothes here."

"Thanks," Aoshi said as he retreated to the bathroom to change for the evening. Adorning his grandfather's sweatpants and sweatshirt, Aoshi padded back out into the living room. Misao was setting up the couch for him, humming a little to herself. 

"All set," Misao said when she say him reenter the room. She didn't meet his eye for more than a second before looking away. A faint blush stained her face and she looked a little awkward. From what he gathered, Misao was not much of a people person. In fact, he was positive that, apart from Soujiro, he was the only guy she had ever spoken to. 

It was getting late now, and Misao felt tiredness creeping in on her. She wouldn't go to bed just yet, though. First she had to change the water in Seraphim's cage, which is what she went off to do next. Aoshi followed her to the studio. Once there, he again marveled at her wall of art while she was busying herself doing little chores. 

"When did she die?" he asked quite suddenly, causing Misao to jump at the sound of his voice. She turned to see him looking at her mother's portrait again.

"When I was eleven," Misao said. The thoughts of that morning came back to her, thoughts of what happened that day, all those years ago. When Sae had left the world for something Misao had hoped would be better than this life.

"How?" His tentative questions didn't bother her as much as the more probing ones issued from others. When it came from Aoshi, she didn't feel the need to hide the truth, to harbor it like some treasured secret that only the trusted chosen few could ever know. It was in that moment that she really understood the depth of her trust in this boy.

"Car accident," Misao responded, eyes straying to the painting. "I used to take this after-school art program in town. She was coming to pick me up one night when a truck hit her at a red light. I didn't know until I got home…she didn't pick me up so I got a ride with one of the other girls."

She didn't know why she was telling him all the details, and not just the usual cut-and-dry answers. For some reason--maybe the fact that she had been thinking about it all day--she wanted to talk about it, about her mother.

"It must have been hard," Aoshi said quietly. He had never lost anyone that close to him, so he couldn't understand the pain that must have gone with it.

"For a long time, it was," she admitted, walking up until she stood beside him, gazing at the painting. "My father was despairing and Okina was depressed for weeks. I remember that for the first three days, I couldn't cry." this was something Misao had told no one, not even Soujiro. "I remember the wake, and the funeral, and the party afterwards…but I never cried until the day after. When all was said and done and I really understood that she was gone."

Inadvertently, Aoshi noticed her eyes fill and feared for a moment that she would start crying right there. She surprised him when she sniffed a little and then smiled. "That's when I started practically living at the Aoyia. Gramps told me that whenever I wanted to, I was welcome there."

"So," Aoshi said, surprised at how hoarse his voice felt. "You're known my grandfather a long time?"

"My entire life," Misao said quietly. 

"He never told me about you, when I used to visit him. I used to spend summers at the Aoyia, until I was ten."

"My mother was still alive then," she said with a note of sadness in her voice. "I didn't go to the Aoyia often in those days. It wasn't until after Mom…that's when I became very close with Gramps and everyone there. He used to tell me stories about our mothers, and you."

"Our mothers?" Aoshi asked in quiet confusion. "What about me?" 

Misao turned to look at him, her head tilted to the side slightly. "Okina was my mother's godfather. Our mother's grew up together." She could tell by his shocked expression that no one had ever told him that. It wounded her a bit, that Okina never mentioned her or her mother to his grandson. The one he valued so highly. "He used to tell me stories about how he trained you. That when I begged and begged until he taught me a few things."

"Did he?" Aoshi asked, a sudden mischievous glint in his eye.

"Yes, but don't get any ideas," she warned, knowing that look. "I'm not as strong, or as big as you are. It would be unfair."

"You're no fun."

"I know, I know." They stood in silence for a while, admiring the art, then Misao yawned loudly. "Come, I'm tired."

"Are you going to tuck me in?" he asked mockingly.

"Only if you're bad," she said with a teasing smile. Aoshi was surprised when he blushed. He followed her from the studio back down to the ground floor. "Do you want food before bed, or just sleep?"

"Sleep," he intoned, already falling on to the couch with flourish. 

"Well then, far be it I deny a growing boy from his beauty rest," Misao said in jest, pulling the extra blanket she had brought over him on the couch. To ward of the cold.

Aoshi surprised her when he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her down on to the couch next to him. "Stay with me a while," he said in her hair, his arms around her waist. 

Misao momentarily panicked, thinking about Soujiro's advice and blushing fiercely, but she relaxed after a minute. He wasn't trying anything beyond holding her, and Misao was stronger than she looked if he did try something funny.

"Tell me something," he said after a few peaceful moments of silence.

"Anything," she sighed, resting her head on his chest. 

"What's your father like…that you don't like him?" The question was asked in innocence. He knew that she didn't like talking about him, but part of him asked out of a selfish want. That child deep inside of him who felt safe around Misao, safe enough to ask a question that had always left a sour place in his heart. The fact that he never knew his father pained Aoshi sometimes, late into the night when he thought. Misao was the first person--apart from Hannya--who he had ever felt comfortable enough around to speak of such a thing with.

Once the question was out, Misao stiffened slightly. She would have drawn away, hidden in that protective wall of silence like she always did when someone asked her about her father, but she couldn't do that. She couldn't hide this time. Not from Aoshi. But she couldn't exactly tell him the truth either, could she? Not yet. It was far too much in too short a period of time.

Instead, she only exhaled and thought. "He tries to control my life for me," she said softly, hardly above a whisper. "He always wants to know where I am, what I'm doing, who I'm with. When he doesn't know, he gets upset and angry. Since my mother died, he just hates me to ever be out of his sight, or the sight of those under his employment."

"So you mean, the last time I was here--?"

"He was having me followed," Misao said in a hollow voice. "That's why I made you get out and hide. If he had caught you here, it would have been a nightmare."

"But he can't catch me now?"

"No," Misao said with another deep exhale. "Even if I'm being watched. By the time he gets here, you'll be gone and he has no proof of the matter."

"Is it a good idea to lie to him like that?"

Misao shivered and snuggled closer to him. "Can we talk about this tomorrow? I'm really tired."

Aoshi dropped the subject, and soon they both drifted off to sleep on the couch. It was a peaceful night, with the snow outside and the comfort inside. Peace that was short lived. Misao never noticed that she was, in fact, being watched. 

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A/N: Okay, technically it's Saturday now. Sorry. I had a little emergency when my freezer broke and my mother and I had to save our food. Looks like it's turkey this weekend! Chapter 8 will be out by Monday! A few quick reviewer responses and I'm out of here. Thanks for reading!

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Miz: Lol, what can I say, I'm a romantic--even if the romance I write is very bad. That's what I think too. Aoshi and Misao…how could it be any way else, you know? Sorry it was a day late. Forgive me, and enjoy this chapter!

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Darkmoon0829: Back again, eh Darkmoon? I update on time because I have no life, lol. Writing is all I am so I take a lot of pride and put a lot of effort into it. Well, let me say that Soujiro once entertained a crush on her, but they are strictly plutonic. Thanks for reading!

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Silver Miko: I'm so happy that you like my work! *cries tears of joy* It's so weird when I hate what I write, post it, and everyone loves it. I always try to do my best, but a lot of the time I don't like it. This story I like for the most part. Renegade--my Soujiro fic--I loved, as well as Tainted Blood, my Inuyasha fic in the works. A lot of the stuff I wrote before that, I hated, which is why I deleted it. I can't wait to read anything you have coming out. (Sorry I don't review, most of the time I just copy/paste and read it offline because my father hates me online so much!)

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Allin656: I'm so happy that you like it! Soujiro is actually a lot like me in this fic, I tell that to all my friends when they tell me about their newest flames. More things will be revealed in the next few chapters. I like to drag it out as long as I can. Thanks for reading though!

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Flyinangel777: I'm really happy that you like it! I am to please a tough crowd and the fact that you like it gives me that warm and fuzzy feeling inside, lol. Although I do love Kenshin and Koura, I don't relate with their characters all that much. Kenshin is too tormented and Kaoru is too afraid of commitment. I can relate best with Aoshi, Misao, and Soujiro--who are my three favorites! Thanks for reading!

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Susan: Yes, I see that I am, which makes me a happy wolf demon! I love Soujiro and Misao action, I always make them act like me and my brother, squabbling and tormenting each other, but there is that layer of affection. I hope you like this one too!

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Nekonomiko: *flashes a v-sign of her own* Thanks for the love, I feel ya. I hope you like this chapter, and I hope you are flooded with inspiration enough to update your fic!

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Tiian: I only update so often because I have no life, everyone's so ashamed because I go so fast…I'm just a sad little person who barely leaves the basement! Saint Kenshin is a weird little guy, I just thought it would be funny to make him a weird little character. Ah, you see through my little plot device. She feels safe in a web of lies! I try to limit myself because I have other stories to concentrate on. This was majorly a story I created to help me get past my writer's block--which it did. So I want to wrap it up clean in 10 chapters, give or take. 

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Tamakia'gss: I take it you like the fluff, ne? I'm not very much into the entire 'lovey-dovey' stuff. I write what I can, but romance is hard for me a lot of the time. I have no idea why. Well, ominous feelings about a chapter can be true, what do you think?

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SeaBreeze: I'm very happy that I could get you interested in the realm of Aoshi/Misao fandom. I inspired a drawing, did I? Perhaps you could show it to me if you could, yes?

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Mariana-chan: Don't put other stuff of just for the sake of my little story! It's not that good! I love sexual tension, I think it's the most hilarious human calamity there is. Well, my whole point is, if you eliminate the sexual tension, then it will be gone…yeah. It was a thought, don't judge me!

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Astro-24: Yes, Mr. M is an ass. I wrote him that way. Who can not love reading a love-hate relationship? Did you sat…Kouga? *squeals and hugs her Kouga plushie* I am totally and absolutely in love with him. I know he's a loser in a mini-skirt, but come on! He's a wolf demon! Yes, I did name myself for Kouga because I am his humble servant. Here is that update you wanted.

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ANIMEGURL_23: Wow, I'm really happy that you think my story is that good! I personally don't think this story is that great of a find, but if you like it, it makes me happy! Here is another chapter for you. Chapter 8 will be out on Monday.

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Len: I'm glad the pull of my writing made you want to review, lol. Yes yes, he finds out next chapter actually. Suspense is part of the writing. And so you know, I am a die-hard believer in happily ever after that comes with a price. Nothing in life is ever easy in my little world. I hope that reassures you…or not! Thanks and continue reading!


	8. Chapter 8: Behind Blue Eyes

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A/N: Here we are, that long anticipated chapter 8. Only a few more chapters to go folks, so get prepared for the plot to start getting juicy. Oh, so everyone knows, my other Aoshi/Misao fic that I've been co-writing with Jazz the Wolf Demon--entitled Safer on the Outside--has it's first chapter up. I hope you guys would consider giving it a read. I want to thank everyone who has reviewed for this story, I'm really happy that everyone likes it!

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Disclaimer: No, *sigh* I don't own Rurouni Kenshin or anything remotely as cool as Aoshi or Misao. I don't own anything by The Who either, just so you know. 

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Riffs and Canvas

Chapter 8: Behind Blue Eyes

Aoshi woke up first the next morning. Normally a late riser, Aoshi surprised himself when by normal school hours he was wide away, laying on the couch. He grabbed the remote and checked the TV station. Sure enough, block letters declared the day void of school, so he happy turned off the set and pulled the blanket over himself for more warmth. That's when he noticed that he wasn't alone on the couch.

At first, he had thought that Misao and him were in an adverse position, but it was rather innocent. The recliner couch was rather large, so there was just enough room for them to sleep side by side without him going over the edge. He was, however, a little disturbed by the way she slept.

She didn't snore, or toss and turn. She hardly spoke out, and when she did it was barely above a whisper. What was disturbing to Aoshi--who had seen many people in his old neighborhood sleep in a similar way--was that she curled into a rather tight ball. It wasn't for warmth, like he used to do when he was a child, because the added heat of the two blankets, the great furnace heating system, and the addition of his own body heat was enough to keep them both comfortable. She did it for safety. As of warding off some distant enemy by becoming as small as she could. 

The thought bothered him more and more as he watched her, unable to fall back into sleep. Misao's long black hair fell across her shoulders like an extra layer of warmth, making her look younger than she was. Driven by some protective impulse, Aoshi tucked the blanket around her carefully. He didn't want to risk waking her, yet adversely hoped that she would wake in the process and uncurl from her current state. Aoshi couldn't explain why it bothered him so much. He just didn't like the thought that even though he was right beside her, Misao was afraid of something.

The adverse side of him won out as lashes fluttered over green eyes, and Misao focused on his face as she yawned loudly. She uncurled slowly and alternately moved closer to him. "Cold," she muttered, but the sound was muffled from sleepiness.

"There's no school," Aoshi said, running a hand through her hair and moving from her face. 

"Good," she agreed.

"Are you always this talkative in the morning?" he asked with a half smile.

"No," Misao said with a smile. He returned it, only to lean down the small distance between them and place a chaste kiss in her lips. When he pulled back, Misao yawned again and stretched. "Breakfast," she muttered, sitting up. He followed as she dazedly scrambled out of the blankets and padded bare-foot into the kitchen.

He watched with interest as she, as per her routine, filled the coffee pot and set it on for her father's morning cup. Then she went into the fridge, pulling out four eggs, the milk, and the butter. With fluid motions and technique that could be done with her eyes closed, Misao prepared scrambled eggs and toast.

It was half-way through the eggs that she remembered her father wasn't home. Misao turned to look at the boy leaning against the counter a few feet away, black bangs hanging in his eyes in a messy but adorable way, dressed in sweats a size too big. He looked at her with a light smile, as if waiting until she remembered him.

"Sorry," she said lamely, with a blush. "I'm not a morning person."

"I'm not much of one either," he agreed. "What are you making?"

"Eggs and toast…like every morning. Do you want something else? I could make you anything you like," she said, trying to sound domestic because it kept her from being nervous. 

"Anything with liquor," he teased. 

Misao rolled her eyes and went back to her eggs. In the end he ate what she made for him anyway, and it was really good. Misao drank the coffee--she was never allowed too when he father was around but she had developed a like for the strong drink. Aoshi had tea, a drink for all occasions.

They ate in a comfortable silence, glancing up at each other every now and then in an almost secretive way. There was no one in the house apart from them, but it was still rather necessary, to add excitement to mundane lives as they thought. After breakfast, they took turned using the shower. Misao washed Aoshi clothes so they would be ready for him to wear again. Of course, while he was in the shower, she was on the phone with Soujiro. He was shocked at her blatant disregard of rules, amazed at her and Aoshi's behavior, and then happily mocking her about it when she hung up. Boys, go figure. That was when, despite the three feet of snow outside of her door, Misao and Aoshi journeyed back to the Aoyia. 

It was as he had left it, vacant of all life save Okina. He also noted that the old man--though wearing his normally cheeriness--was still angry with him. In all the time he had known his grandfather--the majority of his life--Aoshi had never known the man to hold a grudge, or to stay angry quite this long. It left him feeling a little torn. Why was Okina so against his being with Misao?

"My pretty Misao, what a pleasant surprise!" Okina said as he smiled at the girl. "You haven't been by to visit me in days."

"Sorry Gramps," Misao said with a smile. "Snow and school have kept me on my toes."

"That's all right then. As long as it isn't a boy." That statement seemed directed at Aoshi, on who his eyes now rested. The teenager bristled a little, but forced himself to be calm, to remain neutral.

Misao sensed a sudden tension in the air between grandfather and grandson. Had she missed something? Or was Okina none-to-subtlety telling Aoshi to stay away from her? Or was it the other way around? "Sorry about last night Gramps," Misao suddenly interrupted their staring contest. "It was totally my fault."

"You can't control the weather, Misao," Okina said calmly. 

"I know, but I practically forced him to come over so that we could finish our studying for the test. Then it was snowing and…I'm just sorry Gramps. I know you're probably pissed."

Okina smiled genuinely then. He knew that, whatever the reasons, she wouldn't want any bad blood between him and Aoshi if it had anything to do with her. Misao was a very kind hearted girl, after all. It was one of the things she had gotten from her mother. And, for the most part, from her father.

"I'm not angry Misao," he assured her. He met the apprehensive eyes of his grandson and smiled apologetically. Aoshi returned it. It did not go unnoticed by Misao, who was happily accepting her role as mediator. She was struck in that moment, a pain to her heart, at just how _familiar_ this scene seemed to be. It was such a family thing, fights salved and arguments mended…such things that happened in the most close-knit and loving of families. 

That was when she started to get afraid. Not because of the growing hunger inside of her to latch on to this place of domesticity and warmth, but because things like this never happened to someone like her. Misao was not a creature who was meant for happiness. She was meant for despair, for longing and torment. If there was one thing in her life that she knew, Misao knew that all her good fortune had died with her mother. 

She was aware now, her senses tingling. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and she recognized the feeling lingering over her body. Someone was watching her. The unmistakable feeling of eyes probing into the back of her head hit Misao in the chest harder than one of her father's blows. There was someone following her. She was being watched, and that meant that her father could not be far behind. Home. She had to get home. She had to make believe that nothing had happened, that everything was as it should be. Misao had to escape.

"Misao?" someone asked. She quickly looked up to find both Aoshi and Okina watching her closely. Misao smiled, albeit weakly.

"I have to go," she said. Her voice was hoarse, but then she cleared it and continued. "I should get back. I have a ton of things to do." 

"Misao, what's wrong?" Aoshi asked, grabbing her hand when she turned to leave. He turned her to face him, blue eyes pinning her with an intense gaze that was searching for answers. She suddenly understood that he knew as well, or at least knew enough from her reaction. Aoshi could read her better than anyone else, which was something that would cause them both a lot of grief if she didn't get out of there.

"I just have to go," Misao said, freeing her hand and making for the door. Aoshi was about to go after her, but Okina stopped him with a hand to his shoulder.

"Let her go, lad," he said with a frown. His eyes watched Misao escape into the snow. "Let her be."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Misao ran as fast as her feet could take her through the streets, always aware that eyes were on her. No longer was she feeling that happy-go-luckiness that came when she had walked the very same path hand in hand with Aoshi less than an hour before. When he was vacant from her side, she felt horribly alone. Worst of all, she was getting used to it. Used to having him around her. 

Misao shook her head as she ran faster. All her life, the only person besides her family that had ever remained constant in her life had been Soujiro. Her dearest and only friend. She had known him forever. And it was true to say that they were almost brother and sister. Soujiro had no living family, he was the only surviving member of a fatal car accident when he and Misao were ten. There was a time when Sae Makimachi had wanted to adopt Soujiro into their family, but Misao's father had forbidden it. As it was, Soujiro was taken in by Omasu, one of the waitresses at the Aoyia. 

Her father had never approved of her friendship with Soujiro, but he was the one thing that she would never listen to her father about. Soujiro had risked life and limb for her and she was willing to do the same. They may not have been blood, but they were the closest thing either of them had ever had to a real sibling. 

Now, Misao was risking her heart to a stranger. A boy who knew nothing of her past, and only some of her present. Somehow, somewhere along the way, Misao had begun to see him as part of her future. That was what scared her the most because falling in love was one thing, but depending on someone else was something else entirely. Eventually, he would leave to go back to the life he had always wanted. Misao would be free of her father and go to art school. 

There was no future there. Her mind went over this again and again. That logical, rational Misao was telling her that a little pain now was best in the long run because he would just end up more trouble than he was worth in the end. It was that spirited, passionate Misao that was screaming from her heart, saying to hold on to something good in this hellish existence. There was no reason that he had walked into her in that hallways. There was no logic behind his appearance in that study room at the library. It just happened.

Falling in love with him also just happened. 

Out of breath and heartsick, Misao reached her house and exhaled deeply when no car was in the driveway apart from her truck. He wasn't back yet. She was safe for the moment. Misao walked inside the house, feeling the warmth wash over her frozen hands and face. The warmth settled in her bones, knowing she had narrowly escaped her greatest fear. At least, that was what she thought.

"Hello Misao," a causal voice said from the doorway into the next room.

There was no warning of his presence. Misao froze in her motion, snow dripping from her boots, breath caught in her throat, like a deer in headlights. Her green eyes turned to meet the eyes of her father, and she saw nothing in them but a burning rage.

"Dad…" Misao breathed, hating the very word.

"You surprised me. I thought better of you, Misao," he said, rendering her speechless. She only blinked at him openly, frightened at what he was going to do but entranced by what he would say. "I had thought it would be Soujiro that I'd find you with, but here it turns out to be someone else entirely." 

"His name is Aoshi," Misao felt herself say, without even realizing she was intending to speak. "He's Okina's grandson."

"Quiet," Makimachi yelled, slapping her across the side of the face. "You'll speak when I tell you to speak, no sooner." Misao kept her head to the side for a long moment before turning it back. "So," he said, face only a few inches from hers. "You're sleeping with Okina's bastard grandson, eh? Not surprising." 

Misao had to bite down on her tongue from loosing a sudden string of curses from deep in her gut. She had taken so many years of abuse from this man. So long had she suffered silently under his control. But no more would she listen to him speak about the people she loved, about Okina and Soujiro, about Aoshi. That faithful reckless abandon that Misao had embraced so fully as of late was surging in her.

Makimachi had seemed to have lost interest in her sudden, turning swiftly away and stalking toward the living room. "Jineh," he said with a sigh. "Take care of this for me."

"With pleasure, sir," said another voice from the shadows. Misao whirled to see the leering face of her father's favorite guard staring down at her with a smile of pure delight. Misao's heart was in her throat as she ran toward the kitchen. 

Her boots, still snowy, skid across the tile floor and she fell hard. That's when Jineh descended upon her, grabbing her by the front of her jacket and hauling her to her feet. The first blow was struck across her face, deflecting off of her left cheekbone and striking her eye hard. Misao knew a bruise would form almost immediately. After that, he struck her heard in the gut, knocking the wind from her as she crumbled in a heap to the ground.

"I love this job," Jineh said with a wide smile. "I never get tired to hitting such a soft little body. You bruise so easily." He laughed suddenly, landing a kick in her side. Misao cried out. She had bitten through the skin of her bottom lip in an attempt to keep silent and the salty blood filled her mouth, spilling in to the white tile.

"Go to hell," she swore as he took his leg back for another blow. That was when something inside Misao snapped. Something that had been winding inside of her for years but had only just come to the surface. Looking up in those cloudy eyes, the result of so many years of drug abuse, Misao heard a terrible scream fill her ears that she didn't realize until a moment later that it was her own. 

The training Okina had drilled into her at the Aoyia came flooding into her limbs. Misao rolled to her side, flipping from her back to her feet in a fluid motion that left Jineh blinking. Misao had always laid still, taken the abuse, but this time, she was fighting back. 

Jineh attempted to grab her again, but Misao twisted out of his grasp, slamming her heel firmly into his foot. A yelp of startled pain erupted from the man as he limped back a step. Misao took this brief opportunity to look around the kitchen for something to fend him off. Jineh recovered and was coming back at her, backing Misao into the counter. Her hands groped behind her, searching for something. Anything.

"You're such a soft one," he mused, looking down at her face. "I always thought you were such an empty-headed fool. But there is some fight in you after all." He smiled, looming closer. "Come on, let's see how feisty you can get." He licked his lips, so close.

Misao's hand closed around the handle of a small fillet knife. Quickly, she pulled it out and sliced Jineh across the cheek. Blood splattered, dripping down his shirt. He cried, covering the open wound with both his hands as he looked bewilder at her. Misao held the blood knife in front of her like a lifeline. "You'll never touch me again!" she shrieked. "Never!" 

After that was said, she turned to run for the backdoor. Jineh, with one final fierce cry of retribution lunged at her, grabbing one hand around her upper arm, and the other grabbing her long braid. Misao struggled, but he pulled harder down on her hair, exposing her thin, beautiful throat. Breath caught in her lungs, angry tears falling from her eyes, blood still leaking from her pierced lip, Misao look the knife in her hand and sawed.

In the space of a breath, Jineh's hand fell from her head, only holding a handful of braided black hair. Misao had freed herself from his hand and bolted from the door. He gave chase, but when he caught her, Misao was in her truck, doors locked, shoving the keys into the ignition. Her father was at the front door, screaming at her to stop, but Misao backed the truck from the driveway and gunned the engine down the street. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

__

"No one knows what it's like, to be the bad man, to be the sad man, behind blue eyes."

Okina had disappeared into his office once more, telling Aoshi to stay out of trouble. That was it. He was left to his own device. Part of him, the instinct driven part, had him pacing around the Aoyia like a caged animal again. He was worried, and he never worried. He always let what was going to come, come. But now he was worried for someone else. He was worried for Misao, who had taken off so suddenly with eyes so full of fear. 

He had called Hannya and they had talked briefly--he had to go out and help the others shovel sidewalks for spare cash. It was something they did every winter. Aoshi was once more swamped with homesickness. When he had hung up with his friend, he had gone for his music, but found his muse had escaped him. She had run from his mind the same way she had run from the Aoyia. Instead of playing his guitar, he dug a cd out of his guitar bag. Misao had loaned it to him, saying that the first track on the disc reminded her of him. He popped it into his player and listened quietly in his room. 

__

"An' no one knows what it's like, to be hated, to be faded, to telling only lies. But my dreams, they aren't as empty as my conscience seems to be. I have hours, only lonely. My love is vengeance that's never free. No one knows what it's like to feel these feelings like I do. And I blame you.

"No one bites back as hard on their anger. None of my pain an' woe can show through. But my dreams, they aren't as empty as my conscience seems to be. I have hours, only lonely. My love is vengeance that's never free. No one knows what it's like, to be mistreated, to be defeated, behind blue eyes.

"And no one knows how to say that they're sorry, and don't worry. I'm not telling lies. But my dreams, they aren't as empty as my conscience seems to be. I have hours, only lonely. My love is vengeance that's never free. No one knows what it's like to be the bad man, to be the sad man, behind blue eyes. 

"In the close, all the gray, I'll stay if you go away. Concrete, tall as the sky, Movement passing me by. And you blush, what a rush. A reminisce, cold crush, next door, ear to the wall. All the tension, wait for the call, I wish I wish, I wish it was all that easy." 

He listened to the song a few times, liking the sound of it. It made him smile slightly, and thought it would be fun to learn how to play the song. That way, he could play if for Misao. He knew she'd like that. 

In between listening to riff changes and memorizing lyrics, Aoshi got thirsty and headed downstairs to the kitchen to grab himself a drink before going back to work. That's when he heard the muffled sound coming from the back of the restaurant. All the lights were dark, but he noticed a puddle of melting snow on the inside mat. He felt around in the dark for the light switches on the wall, and when he flicked them on, he saw someone in the farthest corner of the room, huddled over in one of the booths. 

"Misao?" he whispered, having a sinking feeling in his gut that it was her. The closer he got, the more he realized that his intuition had been correct. Her coat was thrown aside and her boots lay melting on the floor. Her head was bowed over her knees where they were hugged to her chest in a vain attempt to muffle her sobs. 

She didn't look up as he neared her, but she stiffened as he stood before her. "I come here," she said in a small muffled voice that he had to strain to hear. "When it's dark, and no one can see me."

"Why?" Aoshi asked, matching his voice in pitch and softness as he settled on the booth next to her. She still refused to look at him, to lift her head from her arms.

"Because I'm safe here," she said with another sob that seemed to come from the very center of her being. 

"Misao," he breathed, laying a hand gently on her arm. That's when he noticed her hair. Silky black hair that once fell all the way down her back was now just at a jagged line across her shoulders. 

She looked up at him then. Her left eye was dark and swollen, but not so much that she couldn't see from it. Her face was puffy from her crying, and there was blood all over her mouth, staining the front of her shirt and even smeared across her cheek. Aoshi had seen wounds like this after a heavy brawl, but Misao was not a kid from a street gang. There was no one that she would fight, not like this.

There was only one person he could thin of that could have done this to her, and that was her father. The pieces fell into place now. Misao's hesitation and her fear, her reluctance. He should have seen it long ago, and Aoshi mentally berated himself for it. In his growing anger at her father and herself, Aoshi darkened and Misao flinched away from him.

Immediately, Aoshi was regretful. He reached out slowly, as if touching a wounded animal, and he brushed the loose hair from her face. With a gentle touch, he raised her face so he could meet her eyes. "Come on," he said softly. "Let's clean you up."

Misao nodded her consent. Aoshi slid out of the booth and then reached over. Before she could protest, Aoshi had picked up Misao bridal-style and carried her over to the counter. He set her down and went to the bathroom to get a first-aid kit. Along the way, he stopped for Okina. It was going to be a long night. 

__

"No one knows what it's like, to be the bad man, to be the sad man, behind blue eyes."

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A/N: Okay, here is chapter 8. 9 will be out on Friday cuz I'll be busy the rest of the week! Thanks for reading! Time for reviewer response--and please remember to check out my new co-written story, Safer On The Outside!

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Mariana-chan: Lol, I'm glad I can help! I write fast because I have no life! Writing is my life, so writing makes me happy. I'm not happy unless I'm writing…I'm a sad little person. But I get such a thrill from it! 

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Silver Miko: Okina will explain next chapter! You'll find out all he has to say. I'm glad you liked it!

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Len: Everyone envies Misao snuggling with Aoshi. I live my fantasy of snuggling him vicariously through Misao, lol. A lot of what you need to know will be revealed next chapter, so hold tight!

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Namiko-Daughter of Sekhmet: I'm happy that you did! Thanks for the review!

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Tiian: One never gets big rewards with big risks, you much admit. You see some of my plot devices, but the true saving will be revealed later on. As to who saves her--you'll have to wait to find out. Actually, they have never met before. There are many ties to their pasts, something that gives them common ground and a little air of 'destiny' but no, they have never met before. I have time because I have no job *sigh* and I have no life. Inspiration comes and goes though.

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Allin656: Okina explains all in the next chapter, haha! Closeness is getting there, they are bonding a lot. Omens stick out, and the truth comes out next chapter. Climax in chapter 10! Get ready for it!

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Susan: I'm happy you approve, lol. I hope you like this chapter too.

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Darkmoon0829: I like that they have some common ties, it gives them that sort of 'meant to be' air, don't you think? Well, anyway, I'm glad you like the chapter! 

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Tamakia'gss: I like angst--at least once I know there is going to be a happy ending which there always are in my stories. But fluff is fun to read, but very hard for me to write! Lol, you're ominous feeling will get a kick out of the next chapter, I promise!

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Misao Mei Mei: Yes, it is creepy, but that is supposed to be creepy. Yes, snuggly is fun, hehe. I'm glad you like the interaction because I enjoy it.

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Flyinangel777: Lol, I'm glad you like suspense. The truth will come out in the next chapter! Yes, I write fast…I have no life *sigh*. YAY, a fellow Soujiro lover! I LOVE Soujiro too. He's so adorable! If you like Soujiro--I'm plugging my work here--you should read my story Renegade, it's a Soujiro love story, lol. 

_**baka_child_:** Eep! Lol, I'm sorry, I like cliffies. Yes, there is more gossip in the next chapter. Yes, more Soujiro teasing. *huggles teddy bear* Thanks!

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SeaBreeze: Sorry for the wait, I hope you like this one! I have no life *shrugs* what else can I do but write? Don't worry, I can wait. I'm really interested in seeing your work though, I bet it'll be great!

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Kaze Kittty: I'm grateful you read this story, and very happy you like it too! Here's the next chapter, hope you like. 

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Miz: Lol, they haven't used the word yet, but I think so. So do I, it's so romantic. There will be a lot of truth-telling tomorrow done in chapter 9, so be ready! My collaberation has begun--Safer On The Outside--chapter 2 is already done and ready to be sent to the beta, so be ready for another update soon!

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Roses in bloom: Lol, yes, they are. Here is the update, drama abound to come soon!

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Shin-chan: No, he's not crazy, just stressed and worried. There will be a lot of truth telling in the next chapter, and a couple confrontation. Be prepared!


	9. Chapter 9: What Cannot Be Undone

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A/N: Okay people, here we are at chapter 9. Yay! I'm so happy that I'm getting this fic along. My co-written Aoshi/Misao fic, Safer On The Outside was updated, so check it out if you have a minute. It's gonna be good! In this chapter of the story, we discover many things. What does Okina really know? What really happened to Misao's mother? Why does Makimachi really beat on Misao? All that and more on the way!

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Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin or anything connected with it. I do, however, own several artworks of Aoshi and Misao, and a tee-shirt with the oh-so-molest-able Aoshi. 

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Riffs and Canvas

Chapter 9: What Cannot Be Undone

She barely spoke to them as they tended to her. All Misao could do was sit on the counter, silent tears raining from her eyes, as she watched them grimly go about the task of putting ice against her bruised ribs and cleaning the puncture wounds on her lip. Okina sacrificed a good piece of streak for her eye, to stop the swelling from getting worse.

Aoshi was angry. He couldn't remember ever being more angry in his life. Not at his mother for all her mistakes. Not at her boyfriends for all the things they stole and all the ones that simply walked out over the years. Not even at Kanryuu for all the threats and lies he tried to shower on his friends. Aoshi became more enraged by every bruise they found on Misao's battered body. Even the faded ones that now looked a sickly yellow-tan color on the soft flesh of her arms. All of it sickened him.

Never in his life had he wanted to hurt someone as bad as he wanted to hurt Misao's father in that moment.

Okina peeled away the outer layer of Misao's clothes with an aching sorrow deep in his gut. Memories of another such girl, a little older than Misao but just as delicate, sitting on this very counter to be tended. He remembered the tears in her large green eyes, mirrored by Misao's own. But Misao was stronger, so much stronger, yet even she had fallen before the power of that man.

He shook his head and sighed once they were finished, reaching up and helping Misao to her feet. It only took a second after her feet first touched the floor until she rocketed herself into his arms, her face buried against the fabric of his shirt. Her entire frame shook from the power of her sobs. Okina closed his arms around her, resting his chin on her head and looking at his grandson.

Aoshi looked away from the scene. He couldn't stand seeing her like that. He had seen women cry enough in his lifetime, but somehow he always thought Misao was too strong for something like that. To be hurt that much. He was wrong, and that single mistake left him feeling like someone fired a shotgun into his stomach. The thing that left him the most speechless, the most agonized, was the fact that no one knew. Misao had never told him, and from the look of it, never told anyone. She had suffered in silence for only God knows how long!

"I think this is a time that calls for tea," Okina said suddenly. Aoshi looked up at his grandfather and caught the meaning in his words. He wanted him out of the room so he could talk to Misao. The insinuation that something had to be hidden from him brought a light of contempt into Aoshi's blue eyes as he turned and stalked into the kitchen, slamming the door louder than intended once he was gone. Misao flinched at the noise.

Okina held her away enough so that he could look into her face. "Tell me what happened," was all he said.

"When I got home," Misao said, her voice hitching with tears. "_He _was there. Waiting for me. And…and he _hit_ me. Then told that son of a bitch, Jineh, to do the same!" Okina sighed and brushed Misao's shorn hair from her face. "He had me by my hair," Misao sniffled. "I had to cut it off to get away."

"It's all right, my pretty little Misao," Okina said comfortingly. "You look just as beautiful as ever."

"Gramps!" Misao's eyes watered again as she flung her arms around him harder. She just couldn't stop the tears from falling. At first, she hadn't wanted to stop them, now the dam had broken and she _couldn't_. It was like her insides were being torn into shreds and all she could do was wait for it to be over. Misao hated waiting for the whoever's turn it was to be done with her. She could never be done with herself, why did everyone else get a turn? She couldn't simply walk away when she was done, why did they get to? It was unfair. It was wrong! 

"Stay here tonight," Okina said with another painful sigh. "We'll figure this all out in the morning."

"I'm not going back," Misao said over her draughts of air. "I'm never going back there!"

"Then don't go," Aoshi said, reappearing from the kitchen with his tray of tea. He overheard the last part, and the compulsion to protect was too great to remain silent. He had to step in, had to reassure her. 

"We'll figure it out tomorrow," Okina said, a little more forcefully now. Aoshi scowled at his grandfather as he poured the tea into three cups. He drained his own in one, long gulp before handing one to Misao. She had backed from Okina and sat shakily on one of the stools at the counter. Her hands shook, and she needed both of them to grip her tea cup.

Okina took a sip from his tea, then turned and left. "I'll stay in my office tonight," he said with his back to the other two. "Aoshi, you may use my room. Misao can used your room."

"Yes, Grandpa," Aoshi said in a low voice, one filled with questions that Okina just couldn't answer. He retreated to his office, to his memories and his photographs, to last out the night.

"I'm tired," Misao said in a rough whisper. Her tears abated, she was exhausted from everything. Now, all she wanted was sleep. The tea was making her drowsier.

"Come on," Aoshi said, setting her half-empty cup down and walked around the counter to help her up. She was still shaky on her feet, body at it's limits, so he carried her up the stairs to his room. Aoshi was struck by just how light she felt, just how small she was with an arm around his neck and her head resting against his chest. Maybe he had been too quick to think her so monumentally strong. She had a temper, but that was not necessarily a sign of great strength.

When they got to his room, Aoshi turned down his covered and gently laid Misao down. He was a little reluctant to let her go, missing the warm feeling of her nestled in his arms. When he pulled the blanket up around her, Misao suddenly smiled slightly, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes.

"I seem to recall the reverse situation happening not too long ago."

He brought himself to smile back at her. "Yeah," he agreed. Aoshi didn't know what else to say. It seemed that every reassuring thought and statement, and declaration of protection and shielding was worthless, a heavy lie on his tongue. He couldn't bare to lie to Misao.

Sensing his internal conflict, Misao reached out a hand to him. "Will you stay with me? Just until I fall asleep?"

He couldn't refuse her. More importantly, he didn't _want _to refuse her. His heart greatly desired the same thing, to stay by Misao's side, to make sure she was safe with him around. That she wasn't going to go anywhere if he closed his eyes.

So he wordlessly kicked off his shoes and stretched out next to her, an arm around her shoulders to bring her closer. Misao relaxed then, her head resting on his chest, her eyes closing with a sigh. Aoshi couldn't have said anything if he wanted to. A lump had suddenly risen in his throat. 

He felt that sudden tug again, that feeling of being needed that he had never felt before. Misao was here, asking for him to just rest with her. Like just his presence could protect her from the nightmares that plagued her. This time, she didn't reflexively curl into a ball, she leaned into him. Aoshi had no words, no thoughts, only a feeling deep in his heart that was so strong it hurt. There was no way he could even begin to understand all that went through his mind. Instead, he just made a promise to himself, and to the girl beside him who had slipped mercifully into sleep, that he would make sure that nothing else would happen to her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning happened much like the one before, only instead of Misao groggily waking to prepare breakfast, it was already waiting for them, curtsey of Okina. They ate in silence, both stealing glances at the other, as if attempting to read the other's thoughts. It didn't work because by the end of the meal, neither could read the other's thoughts or expressions.

Okina had walked in on them, mid-meal, then walked out again because the tension was too great. He had gone upstairs once during the night. Upon finding his bed without occupation, he went into Aoshi's room and discovered both teenagers curled up together on the small twin bed. It was enough of an omen, and a realization, that Okina knew that the time of hoping for a resolution was over. 

He became even more aware that the time was over when they received two unexpected--yet expected--visitors later that morning. The tension had mostly dissipated into a comfortable companionship without the need for words. Aoshi had been sitting on the counter, strumming a little tune on his guitar. Misao had been sitting next to him, swaying a little to the song. Okina had finished calling his employees, saying that business would pick up as usual the next day. He thought it best to play today out without anyone else noticing Misao's new shiner. 

Two local police officers entered the restaurant, despite the closed sign on the door. Immediately, their attention was riveted on Misao, who had noticed them enter and was shrinking down to hide behind Aoshi. He stopped, mid-riff, and placed his guitar on the counter gently before hopping to his feet. He suddenly longed for his trench coat, because it always gave him that edge of a street kid. 

From experience, he knew enough of cop behavior to read the reason they were there. It also meant that they didn't necessarily want to be there, to be doing what they were doing. It didn't mean that he had to like the fact that they were there, that they were intruding upon ground that was always safe for both teenagers. With the single action of them walking through the front door, they shattered the barrier around Aoshi and Misao.

"Excuse us," the taller of the two cops said, stepping toward them. Misao hopped from the counter and grasped Aoshi's hand tightly in her own, half hiding behind him. "We're here to take you home Miss Makimachi."

Aoshi stepped fully in front of her, blocking Misao totally from view. "Misao isn't going anywhere," he said in a low and threatening voice. It would send others scattering, make his enemies quake. These cops, who had heard similar statements made a thousand times, were touched slightly by the venom in the boy's voice. Still, they had a job to do, whether they wanted to do it or not.

"I'm afraid that's not up to you," the second cop said, walking closer now. He was ready to grab Misao if he had to. The other officer made ready to subdue Aoshi if he had to. 

"The hell it isn't!" Aoshi growled at them, backing up as they drew closer. He wouldn't let them take Misao without a fight. 

Misao had been watched from behind Aoshi, waiting to see what they would do. She saw one of them reach for a night stick and became afraid. Not for herself, but for him, for Aoshi. 

Over the years, Misao had taken beating far worse than this cop could ever dole out to a teen trying to protect a run-away. She wasn't afraid of a few blows. In fact, they'd happily go along with the ones she still sported from the night before. No, she wasn't afraid to be hit. She was more afraid of Aoshi getting hit because of her. 

Never, for as long as her days, would she ever allow him to be hurt in defense of her. She loved him far too much to let him do something so purely stupid. There was no fighting her father, by now she should no that well enough. Still, the reckless abandon that she had suppressed for so long, that had suddenly reached out and gripped her, the very same that told her to love Aoshi with the full of her wounded heart, it had told her that she could fight back. She did, and now she lost a greater cost. She had gotten Aoshi involved. Misao had a selfish heart and it was because of that, that she stepped out from behind the barrier Aoshi created between her and certain oblivion. She stepped out of the safe warmth of his presence and protection, and into the arms of the enemy. 

"It's ok Aoshi," she said, not able to bring herself to meet his eyes. 

"Misao," he said softly, reaching out an open hand to her. Misao stared at it for a long moment, having to fight every urge of her body to grab it and hold on. She turned away instead.

"I take it my father is at the station?"

"He's very worried about you," the smaller of the cops said, taking a hold of her arm to escort her outside.

"I told you," Aoshi said angrily. "You can't take her back to that bastard!" He was two seconds away from losing his cool totally and jumping both cops right in the middle of the Aoyia. 

Okina stopped him, finally emerged from his office. He put an arm around Aoshi's shoulders, successfully rooting him in place. "It's all right officers. Tell Mayor Makimachi that Misao was perfectly fine, here at the Aoyia, as always."

The two police officers nodded and escorted Misao out, pausing long enough at the door for her to shrug on her coat. Aoshi struggled then, and only then, to try and stop them one last time. Okina held him back again. Desperately, Aoshi wanted to chase after them, to get her back. A feeling settled in his bones, one that chilled him totally. The thought that he may never see Misao again.

Misao looked back only once, and couldn't stop her eyes from watering over. There was an ominous feeling in her stomach, something that told her once she stepped outside of this door, everything in her world would come crashing to it's knees.

_But that's the way things go, when you fall in love_, her mother's voice called from deep within. _Everything you know changes, moves so fast you can't catch it. The trick is to hold on and know that the thing that's changing your world is worth fighting to keep._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"She's gone," Aoshi whispered, more to himself than to his grandfather, as he watched the car with Misao in it drive off. 

"Yes, I know," Okina said sadly.

"_Why_?" Aoshi suddenly yelled, turning on his grandfather. "Why did you let them take her?"

"Because they would have gotten her sooner or later," Okina said calmly in the face of his grandson's anger. "Makimachi is not a man you can push around, Aoshi. He would have come here and gotten her later this afternoon with an order to arrest you and me both had we resisted."

"Arrest us?"

"For aiding and embedding, or some nonsense like that," Okina cured with a wave of his hand. "The man has power and money, he can do anything he likes in this town."

"You _knew_," Aoshi breathed suddenly, looking at his grandfather with a mixture of hope and horror. Hope that it wasn't true, and horror that it was. 

"Yes," he said with a sigh, eyes turned toward the door. "I've known for years." 

"Why didn't you do anything?" the teenager demanded. "Why did you let her suffer? Why let that bastard hurt Misao!?"

Okina sighed again, rubbing his hands together. "Come with me Aoshi," he said quietly. "There is something I should have told you from the beginning."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Misao's blood froze as she entered the station and saw her father, seated in the police chief's office, with Jineh standing beside him. The psychotic henchmen had a bandage over his face, and leered at her so frighteningly that Misao shuddered down to her toes. What had she done?

"Misao!" her father exclaimed when he saw her. He rushed to his feet and embraced the girl, who stood as ridged and stiff as a plank of wood. "I'm so glad your safe! I know that all this running off wasn't your idea. It had to be that boy, Okina's grandson, putting ideas into your head." He turned to the chief. "She is such a gullible child, you see," he explained as if she wasn't there. "Anyone tells her to do something and she's so eager to please she forgets who she shouldn't listen to."

Misao stood there, arms at her sides, green eyes staring ahead and unfocused. Her hands balled into fists at his words, making her sound like she was some kind of dense five-year-old. It was just another way to control her. By telling the chief of police that she was too slow to make decisions for herself, anytime she disappeared from the house, he could make them bring her back under the pretense that she didn't know any better. Who would believe a suggested moron over the mayor of the town?

Misao wanted to scream just then. She knew the truth well enough now. Her father had her under his thumb now. There was no way she'd ever go to art school, or any school for that matter. She'd never be allowed back to the Aoyia. Most importantly, she'd never see Aoshi again. That was the deathblow that forced tears from her green eyes, and she bowed her head, hiding behind the fall of her hair. None of them noticed as the meeting finished up and Misao was escorted out to the car.

Once they got home, and the mayor dismissed the police escort, it was a different story. Now that they were in the privacy of their own home, now he could make sure that Misao knew just how well she would pay for betraying him. For fighting the forces of God. This time he wouldn't leave it in the incapable hands of Jineh--the drug addict was likely to let her escape again. No, this time, he would have the pleasure of being her himself. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Here," Okina said, handing Aoshi a framed picture. The old man had taken his grandson into his office, closing the door behind them and sitting them both down on a old leather couch in the back of the room. He took the picture that sat on his desk and handed it to his grandson.

Aoshi looked over the picture. His eyes were drawn to the woman on the right. Younger and smiling brilliantly was Misao's mother. He'd know her anywhere, even if she was looking away from the camera, because of the resemblance. "It's Misao's mother," he said slowly. Then his eyes shifted to the other figure, the one of the far left. Younger, smaller, smiling happily was his mother, Aiko. "And…my mom."

Okina nodded. "This was taken a few years before your mother left," he said quietly. "I took the picture myself. It was just after Sae got married."

"To Makimachi," Aoshi said in a voice of finality. 

"That was before he started hurting her," Okina said calmly. Aoshi's eyes flew from the picture to his grandfather's face. 

"He hit her mother too?" Okina nodded. "And you knew?" Again, a nod. "Why didn't you stop him?"

"I have to start from the beginning," Okina said slowly, as if painfully tired. Aoshi noticed then how old his grandfather looked. "I knew Sae's parents all our lives. Her father was my best friend since the cradle and when he married her mother, I was best man. It only made sense that I be made Sae's godfather. It was a role I took very seriously, even after your mother was born."

Okina paused in his tale, taking the photograph back and looking down at it nostalgically. "Sae's parents, for all their virtues and kindness, had a major flaw. They were fond of gambling, even when they had no money left to bet. Which is how they quickly came into debt. After you're grandmother left us, your mother and I opened this restaurant, and I was the one they turned to for money. I guess they thought that because I owned my own business, I had money to spare."

"That's a joke," Aoshi snorted. Okina looked up at him seriously. "I'm sorry," he said with his head down. "Continue."

"Well, one day they got into a little too much debt," Okina continued with a disgusted snort and a shake of his head. "They borrowed money from a loan man and couldn't pay it back. I couldn't give them anything because the restaurant was going through a rough patch, and your mother had her music lessons that I was paying for. So, in an attempt to pay off their debt, instead of giving them money, they gave their daughter."

"What?" Aoshi asked, mouth hanging open. 

Okina smiled rather grimly and nodded. "Lovely, yes? The loan shark they took money from had a son in his early twenties, and he had taken quite a shine to their daughter. Sae was barely eighteen at the time, head full of dreams and possibilities for her life. Most importantly, her heart was full of love for another man. That was why she was so miserable when she was forced into marrying Makimachi."

"Couldn't she have just said no? Run away with the guy she loved? Anything?" Aoshi asked, trying to understand.

"And leave her parents to face death or imprisonment? Sae was far too generous for that, and it made me sick that her parents could do such a thing. After the wedding, I never spoke to them again. I did, however, keep in close contact with my goddaughter."

"What happened?"

"Perhaps it was the fact that I was so upset by Sae's fate, or maybe I was giving too much attention to her, whatever the answer, that was when your mother left." Okina shook his head sadly, then his eyes met with his grandson. "A few months later I found out she was pregnant with you, and the rest you know of that tale."

"My mom left because of Sae?" Aoshi asked, blue eyes clouded with some secret thought he would not voice aloud.

"Perhaps," Okina said with a shrug. "I think it was more because of Sasuke."

"Sasuke?" Another name Aoshi didn't know. Another part of this story, another strand in this tangled web of lies and things.

"He's the man in the photo," Okina explained, showing Aoshi the picture once more. He had noticed the man when he first looked at it, but now Aoshi looked closer at him, noticing some of his features and the way he held himself. "He lived next door to us all his life," Okina went on. "He was the boy that both Sae and your mother were both in love with."

"My mother…loved him?" Aoshi said, looking up at Okina. 

"I think it was a kind of rivalry between them," his grandfather said. "Whatever Sae had, Aiko wanted. Sae was two years older than your mother, so she was always trying to be one up on her, or something. Sasuke was their biggest argument. Aiko loved him, regardless of Sae's involvement, but although Sasuke looked after your mother, he was in love with Sae."

Aoshi nodded, his hopes dashed. It hadn't hurt as bad as he expected. But he had only half-expected his childish notion to be true. The man in the photo wasn't his father. Okina seemed to notice his disappointment and reached out, patting him on the head. "I can't tell you who your father is, my boy," he said quietly. "But I do know that it wasn't Sasuke. He was devoted to Sae. And that was why it killed them both when she married another."

"What happened after that? To Sasuke I mean."

Okina grappled with himself, but came to a sudden decision because he set the photograph down and turned to the boy beside him. "He opened a small art school in town. He was talented, so talented in fact he had been invited to travel abroad to paint and study. But he turned it down, to be close to Sae. Even if she was married to another man, his love never wavered.

"With Sae it was different. She tried to kill her love for Sasuke and threw herself head-long into this marriage. She tried everything to be the perfect wife. Of course, she couldn't prove to him that he was the love of her life anymore than she could convince herself. It had only been six months into the marriage the first time she came here, in the middle of the night, bloody and bruised. He'd found out she'd gone to see Sasuke. After that, she'd show up here, twice, three times a month, beaten so bad she could barely hold up her head without wincing." Okina paused and shook his head again, trying to rid himself of those memories. "You can't imagine what it's like to see someone like Sae, so full of life and spirit, seem to die right in front of you. The light was gone from her eyes to the point where not even Sasuke could bring it back."

"What changed?" Aoshi asked. He knew it had to have changed because Misao had always seemed so happy when remembering her mother. The mother Misao knew was lively, not this dead thing Okina saw in his mind.

"Misao was born," Okina said simply. "When she had Misao, Sae became her old self again. She had a reason to live, something to love with all of her heart, who could love her back without restraint or forbidden promise. Misao was everything to that girl. I saw her take her beatings, take her bruises and scars without complaint, all because of that little ball of energy." Okina smiled to himself. "Misao was like a light in a dark room. So full of spirit and fight. She was the kind of child that everyone seemed to gravitate to, so easy to love."

"What happened when Sae died?" Aoshi pressed.

Okina's smile faded. "After Sae died in the car accident, Misao became the brunt of Makimachi's rage. Everything he did to Sae, he did to her daughter. More so I'd say, because she was harder to control. Misao would fight back when she was young, until she gave up the charade and just took her pain laying down."

"Why didn't you help them, Grandpa?" Aoshi asked. This he needed to know.

"I tried, the first time Sae came in here, I told her to leave the bastard. She could live at the Aoyia and get a divorce. She was going to do just that, but Makimachi threatened me. He said he'd take my restaurant, everything I had, if I ever tried to interfere with him or Sae. I would have anyway, but she begged me not to. She begged me to look after myself and Aiko, that she could handle it. After she died, I was going to do anything to get Misao out of there, before she became next. I hired a lawyer, had the papers drawn up. I even had charged brought against him the first time I saw Misao after a beating."

"He bought his way out," Aoshi said with understanding at last. "He has the money and the power."

"He threatened to take Misao away. He even threatened to kill her if I did anything like that again. I couldn't do it, I just couldn't risk her life. So I watched in silence as he did to Misao everything he had done to Sae."

"But Misao didn't break," Aoshi denied. 

"Not completely," Okina agreed. "She's so much stronger than Sae was, because she had to be. Misao still has that spark in her, that only life and beauty."

"That's why you wanted me to stay away from her," Aoshi whispered. "Because you knew this would happen."

"Not really," Okina admitted. "I had a feeling, but that was about it. Misao is a powerful force, and lesser men would be taken in by her charms quite easily. I knew that you would put up a fight, and she would be drawn to that. And before I knew it, the two of you were already too far gone. Now I'm afraid something worse than a broken heart could befall Misao. Especially since she doesn't know the whole truth."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Ah," Misao cough, blood dripping from her mouth across the linoleum tile. She was sprawled, pulling herself on to hands and knees. Makimachi stood over her, cracking his knuckles, scowling horribly at her crumpled form. Consumed by rage, he kicked her in the side so hard she flipped on to her back with another cry of pain. She had begun to cry tears of agony as she tried to curl into a ball. He didn't give her enough time.

"Disgusting creature," he flung at her. "How dare you try to spare yourself your punishment!" 

"I didn't do anything wrong!" Misao screamed from her gut, spitting a wad of blood and saliva on to his shoe in her own contempt. 

He sneered, kicking her again. Misao whimpered, curling around her wounded side and writhing in pain. "You didn't do anything wrong you say," he mocked. "That's what she said!" He kicked Misao again for good measure.

The teenager opened her eyes when she landed face down again on the floor, spying the table in front of her. She gripped one of the legs, pulling herself shakily to her feet. When he came at her, Misao ducked under his hand and retreated to the other side of the table, limping and favoring her left side.

"You're just like your mother," he flung at her. "You think you can fool me. You think I'm dumb enough that I can't see what's going on behind my back."

"Stay away from me!" Misao shrieked. She was going to run for the knives, but noticed with horror that they were all gone. A tribute to her lucky escape from Jineh the night before. She was truly trapped, and there was no getting out. 

"I own you!" Makimachi yelled as he dove across the table for her. Misao ducked under the table and crawled to the other side, making a break for the door. She passed through it just before he lunged and caught her by the feet. She fell hard to the ground, scrambling to get up.

"Stop struggling!" he yelled, cursing as she kicking him hard in the shin.

"No!" Misao screamed. She was not going to let this happen. She was not going to die, not today. Makimachi grabbed her from behind, an arm crushing her windpipe. Misao clawed at his wrist, trying to breathe. 

"You can't run from me anymore," he whispered into her ear. "I've been wanting to do this for seventeen years." Tears coursed from Misao's eyes, but no air came into her lungs. "I couldn't do it while your mother was around. You didn't matter enough for me to do it since she died, but now that you've gone and gotten it into your head that it's ok to screw around behind my back like she did, I can finally get rid of you."

With that, he shoved Misao from him and right into the hallway wall. Misao struck hard, falling back. She choked on the air she began gulping. Blood and tears filled her mouth as she tried to get up and run upstairs again. He blocked her way, grabbing her arm when she tried to flee. He pinned her against the wall, looking down at her with clouded eyes. Misao was scared, and angry, and in pain.

"You look so much like he," he said thoughtfully, almost as if not seeing Misao at all. "But you look too much like him."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"What truth Grandpa?" Aoshi asked, eyes wide in his alarm. This was the real reason he had been brought into this room. The real reason Misao was in danger. He could feel it.

"Misao…" Okina began with a heavy sigh. "She's not Makimachi's daughter." He looked up to meet the eyes of his grandson. "She's the daughter of Sae and Sasuke."

Aoshi grabbed up the picture one more time, scanning the man held in it's frame. That's when he saw it, the proof of the statement, held in the figures of both Misao's parents. Her mother's features and frame. Sasuke's blue-black hair. Sasuke's turned up nose. In the time it took Aoshi to absorb the truth of this, he was on his feet and running.

"Aoshi!" Okina called after him. The boy didn't stop, not even for his coat. He took off into the cold night in a short-sleeved shirt, praying that there was still enough time to save Misao. 

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A/N: Sorry for the cliff-hanger. Hehe, I couldn't resist! Okay, be on the look-out for Chapter 10 on Monday or Tuesday. I'll try to get it out as soon as I can, but I'll be pretty busy the next for days. Probably on Monday I'll have it out, or early Tuesday. Please remember to review!

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Miz: Well, I hope this chapter cleared up your questions and concerns. If you have anymore, just review them and I'll be sure to answer them. Thanks for the review!

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SeaBreeze: I read your fic and I liked it. It wasn't like mine at all! Inspiration is not copying. One can read a story and like the idea of it, but yours was nothing like mine. I hope you feel better soon, and I eagerly await the arrival of your sketch. If you want, we could compare, since I have a very nice drawing I did of Hiei from Yuyu Hakusho, lol.

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Tiian: Yes, I think the 'past meeting' scenario is pretty played out. I guess the risks she's taking are a little far fetched, but if I didn't make her take them, there wouldn't be a story! Ah, Aoshi confrontation with Makimachi shall appear in the next chapter! No, no, no, there are no 'redemption' characters in this story plotline. That's just stupid. Who really wants to read about a bad guy suddenly becoming all kind and friendly. That's something from a Muppet movie! Thanks for the review!

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Len: *beams* I'm so happy that you like my work. Enjoy the chapter and the next will be out as soon as possible! 

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Spirit demon: That's okay. I'm glad you're reviewing now. And I'm very happy that you like my work enough to review at all! I always try to grow with my story as I go along. I hope this one had you on the edge of your seat!

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Tamakia'gss: Yes, Misao is a tragic hero, but I like her like this. It means that because she knows great suffering now, her life will be so much better later. If she lives that is, haha! Yes, Jineh is scary, that was why I chose him for the part of the 'guard'. Here's the update. The suspense here will kill you more, haha!

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Namiko-Daughter of Sekhmet: I'm glad!

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Susan: Here, tell me what _you_ think will happen, haha! 

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Darkmoon0829: Never sick of a faithful reviewer! I love you like Ramen! Ah yes, the Aoshi factor in the morning. God, he's look sexy any time of the day or night! Yes, Misao can fight, but most of the time she was so used to it that she never did fight back. Now she has a reason!

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Silver Miko: Those are worth their weight it gold! Thank you! By the by, if you like my work--you should check out my new Aoshi/Misao fic that I am co-writing. I think you'd like it. It will get better as it goes along though!

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Allin656: I hope that you like this chapter and the rest of my work, if you've read it. Thanks for the review and I hope the ending meets standards!

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Neko-chan: I'm so happy that you like my work! It means a lot to be to have suck wonderful readers! Misao is too busy running from him to attack him, and I'm glad you like my characters! The Okina-thing was explained here, but if you have any other questions, just review and ask. Isn't that a great song? I heard it a few weeks ago and the first thought in my head was Aoshi! Don't worry, I can stone flamers to death myself, but it's always nice to gain a new lackey, lol.

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Shin-chan: Yes, poor Misao. You'll find out what happens in the next chapter, so stay tuned!

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Dysfunctional Superhero: I'm glad that you like my story! Here's an update, enjoy!

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SoT'n'Kenshin: I'm so glad I've hooked another one, lol. Yes, well, I had to make it sound preppy-like to get people to read it, I know how readers are suckers for high-school drama. I hope this update leaves you in suspense! I'm rally glad that you can get into my story. I really like how this one is turning out. Yes, well, here is Okina's big confession scene, how did I do? I'm very happy you like my work, it makes me giggle like a school girl, lol. Thanks for the review!


	10. Chapter 10: Father Knows Best

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A/N: Okay people, here we are at the dramatic conclusion of _Riffs & Canvas_! Well, almost the conclusion--but it will be dramatic. I've actually decided to extend this story into 11 chapters. Yes, that's right, there will be an epilogue of sorts. But anyway, on to chapter 10! Oh, and please remember to check out _Safer On The Outside._ Chapter three is just about done, and I'm really enjoying it! Dramatic, action-y Aoshi/Misao goodness! Back to this story, enjoy!

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Disclaimer: No, I don't own anything Rurouni Kenshin, that's three rooms down on the left. I'm the one who owns the _Guardian Angel _franchise. 

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Riffs & Canvas

Chapter 10: Father Knows Best

Misao hit the stairs on her back, the wooden step jolting her spine and racking her body with a blossom of pain. She coughed, spurting another mouthful of salty red blood all over the front of her shirt. She felt battered and broken in several places. Her arms were bruised and aching. Her legs were barely moveable. Her face was bleeding from several places. It was times like these that a girl, no matter how strong she was, wished she could faint on command. She wished for darkness, the comforting numb of unconsciousness. Maybe a little part of her wished for death as well, an easy escape from hardship.

She was granted none of those things as the looming shadow of Makimachi fell over her crumbled form. Fear sprang to life within her, causing limbs to spasm in an attempt to escape the falling fist. She looked like a small animal caught in a trap, body still in motion for escape but paralyzed. 

"You're just one more goddamn lie!" he shouted, putting all his anger into one swing after another. Resentment, contempt, hatred, all of it welled in him, came out through his hands, was beaten into Misao. The child his wife had never lied into calling his. The child he had suffered to watch grow under his roof, with his name, when he knew her to be the bastard of another.

What surprised him, what made him pause in his tirade was when Misao began to laugh. It began as a small throaty sound, almost like a cough, but grew into a harsher sound as if ripped from her stomach rather than her lungs. Her entire frame shook with it, even as hot tears coursed down her bloody face.

"You…call me a lie?" she coughed, looking up at him with green eyes just a bit dazed. 

_She's lost her mind_, he thought to himself, looking into those eyes. There was no longer any fear, no hesitation or reserve, there wasn't even anger. All there was, deep in the depths of Misao's eyes, was a chilling acceptance. She had made peace with herself. She knew she was going to die. 

"I'm no lie," she whispered to him, shifting her body away from him as much as she could while still sprawled across the stairs, the step digging painfully into her lower back. "You are the lie. You who pretend to be something special. You're the one who hides behind that name of love and respect."

"What are you babbling about?" he growled, grabbing her chin and forcing her to meet his steady gaze. Misao stared back evenly.

"_Father_," she said quietly. "It's just a word."

Ice shattered in his veins as he looked at her. Misao didn't struggle, she just hung like dead weight when he dragged her to her feet. "You are just like her!" he screamed in her face, eyes wide with such memory and emotion. The look of betrayal and jealousy wild on his features. "But like her, you're mine! You belong to me!" 

Misao wrapped her hands around the one he had on her throat. Not a tight enough grip to choke her, just to keep her upright. Her eyes burned in his, her cold hands light around his own. She wasn't trying to claw him off, she was just staring at him. It began to frighten him. Where were the screams? The fighting? Where was her usual display of obedience, submission, or fire?

If she could speak, she would have told him to let her go. As it was, she endured his flexing hand on her windpipe and looked back at him blankly. What was the point in fighting him anymore? If she was going to die, she would die with grace and dignity. Misao would not beg her life, she would not cry like a weak thing. She would simply accept her fate, and pray that her face haunt this man until the every last moment of his wretched existence. That would be enough justice for her.

Makimachi, finally confused enough by her silent acceptance, hurled her from him again. Misao, using the little strength left in her arms, stopped herself from colliding with the second floor wall. Instead, she grabbed the banister of the stairs and swung herself around, so that she landed in a semi-crouching position. She couldn't stay upright for long, and fell heavily to one side on the floor, panting hard.

She couldn't seem to find enough air in her lungs, black spots began to blink behind her eyes. Still, she fought off the darkness she once welcomed and began to crawl away from the stairs. Makimachi followed, grabbing the back of her shirt and half-dragging, half-lighting her from the floor, pushed open the door that led to her studio and began to climb. 

This was more than Misao could take. The sanctity of her haven was being violated by this foul creature. All the goodness and light of this place seemed to diminish and disappear the second this man stepped over the threshold. Tears welled in Misao's eyes and spilled over. She never really knew why she started weeping then, but it wasn't of fear. It was more of mourning. Knowing that soon, so soon, all of what was her would be gone.

Makimachi promptly dropped her to the floor in a heap and walked toward the wall of her artwork. Savagely, he grabbed papers in his hands and ripped. Drawings flew over his shoulders to float softly to the floor. Curses sprang from his mouth as he destroyed the mural on the wall. "Art! That was her excuse! Had to go to art class, in town, in that loft! Had to see that man and his art!" He yelled loudly, shredding the paper in his hands and throwing it at Misao, who hadn't moved from where she had been dropped.

Misao whimpered slightly when she watched Makimachi rip her drawing of Aoshi to pieces, the one she drew that day in Hiko's office. It had always been her favorite. She was struck then, in that lingering yet fleeting moment, that she wanted to see him one more time, more than anything else in the world. Now her hopes and her drawing lay scattered around her and Misao felt so hollow she was sure the papers would blow through her.

Once all the papers had been torn and crumbled, thrown to the ground, Makimachi grabbed the portrait of Sae. He made a move as if to snap it in half over his knee, but stopped while looking down on it. He snarled, tossing the canvas down beside her. "You can die while looking at your whore of a mother!" he yelled at her as he stalked from the room and down the stairs. Misao, who had barely breathed while laying on the floor of her violated studio, reached out one trembling, bleeding hand to grab the edge of the canvas. She drew the painting to her and rested it next to her body as she closed her eyes. Footsteps were coming back toward her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Aoshi had disappeared from the Aoyia and Okina knew that there was only one place the boy would go. That would be to Misao.

He shook his head slowly, wondering what he should do. If he went after the boy, he knew there was nothing he could do to stop him. If he went to Misao, Makimachi would cut him down before he got within a foot of the girl. There seemed to be only one course of action, so he took it. 

Okina's hand closed around the phone, lifting it from the cradle and dialing 911. He waited a moment for the operator to connect to him. "There's a girl being attacked," he said evenly, steadily as he could. His heart was pounding loudly in his ears and his palms were sweaty. If anything happened to Misao, he would never forgive himself, not now. "I need to police."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Aoshi ran down the streets, boots slightly skidding in unseen patches of ice and melting snow. He nearly fell ore times than he could count, but he never slowed down once in his haste. He just ran.

It was the closer he got to Misao's house that the fear really began to grip his stomach. He only started running faster. His breath came in short gasps, white wisps hanging in front of his face for split seconds as he ran past them. He was freeze, inside and out, but all he could think about was Misao, her face bloodied and her body bruised, and it made him forget his own condition.

Finally, miraculously, he came to her street and paused slightly, hands on his knees in an attempt to help him catch his breath. That was when he smelled the first hint of smoke. 

He looked up, eyes widening in shock, when he saw the dark clouds begin floating out of the windows from Misao's house. It was on fire. And he knew that Misao was still inside.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Makimachi returned, Misao saw the can of gasoline in his hand. They always kept a small one under the sink, for the grill on the patio in the backyard. He meticulously unscrewed the lid, dousing a few things here and there with the liquid. Soon he moved from her studio and down the stairs. She heard the splashing of wall and carpet as he thinly spread the strong-smelling liquid throughout the house. Her head felt dizzy from the smell, from the bleeding in the pain, but she held on to her senses as best she could.

When he appeared once more, a can of lighter fluid was in his hands. That, he happily upended on the teenage girl laying on the floor. Flammable liquid mixed with the blood already pooled on the wood floor. Misao coughed and winced, whimpering at the burning it brought to her wounds. Makimachi only smiled at her pain, stomping on her ribcage once more for good measure, then turned from the room one last time.

"Goodbye Misao," he commented lighting, like a passing acquaintance or business partner he had just ended arrangements with. It was not the type of goodbye a man would give to the girl who had been his daughter for seventeen years.

Misao wept silently as he walked away. In some small part of her, Misao thought that he might have loved her in the smallest of measurement only because she was his daughter. Or the closest thing he would ever have to a daughter. Some part of her thought that he wouldn't kill her. That he'd beat her and belittle her and control her, but never kill her. Now she knew how truly childish that hope had been. 

That's when she smelled the smoke and fire, when the scent of burning cloth and plastic made it's way up the stairs to her nose. Her blood ran cold and her entire frame began to trembling violently. He was burning the house down around her years. He wasn't even going to kill her himself, the cowardly bastard, he would only light the fire.

Misao wanted to scream, to curse and to cry. She wanted many things, got few, and was left aching for more. Her life was a sad story that was often told of teenage dramas on network television, the kind that all the kids at school watched religiously, the ones she had never liked. When a person's life is too close to that of an episode of a badly written drama, it becomes a tasteless mockery of pain. Misao had never wanted pity, barely wanted help. She had always thought that if she worked hard enough, stayed strong enough, she could walk out of this house on her own two feet and be one up on everyone else. She would be twice as strong, ready to make a life on her own steam. That was another of her childish hopes.

Maybe if she had told someone besides Okina. Maybe if she had opened up to Aoshi earlier, or even Hiko. Someone she could tell, to ask for help. _Pride_, her mother's voice seemed to echo sadly. _Pride and fear. That was what kept you silent for so long. Now it doesn't really matter Misao._

"It doesn't really matter," she whispered, hugging the painting to her chest like a lifeline.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Aoshi never knew he could run that fast, but he did. He was up the driveway and reaching for the doorknob before a rational thought form in his head. That thought only came to him because the door opened before he touched it. And Aoshi Shinomori was faced with Makimachi, trying to escape the destruction of his own making.

Seeing him up close for the first time, Aoshi was struck by how small the man was. Aoshi had a good six inches on him. He was also older. Not as old as Okina mine you, but still a man growing older in his years. This was the man that had tormented Misao for so long, the man that left her battered and bruised and scared. This was the man responsible for some much heart-ache to the people he loved.

"Where is she?"

His voice was icier that he meant it to be, tipped with steel and all threat. The older man narrowed his eyes, taking in the boy's appearance slowly, methodically. "You're Okina's boy," was all he said. His voice was like sandpaper and Aoshi loathed the sound of it.

"Where is she?" he repeated, drawing himself up a fraction higher.

"This doesn't concern you, boy," Makimachi drawled, a dangerous light springing to life in his eyes. Aoshi was not intimidated at all. In fact, he was only more enraged that this man thought he could frighten him off like a skittish animal with nothing but a glare.

"I won't ask you again, old man," Aoshi said, his voice colder and harder--if possible. His hands balled into fists, nails digging into his palms. 

"How dare you--" Makimachi began to shout, but Aoshi pushed past him then and into the house. He was assaulted by heat and smoke, coughing and looking around as he took another step in. That was when he was attacked from behind.

Makimachi had grabbed a lamp from the nearby table and cracked Aoshi over the head with it, hoping to subdue the boy before he managed to find the girl. If he was found admits the ashes once the house was gone, then Makimachi could add the story of Misao's death. There was only one problem with his plan. 

The fact that Aoshi didn't go down when a lamp was shattered over the back of his head. It only pissed him off.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he rounded on Makimachi, fire in his blue eyes. The old man ever even had time to move before Aoshi landed one across the side of his head. He was down for the count with that single swing. Aoshi snorted, disappointed, as he looked down at the man laying across the front step. He had expected more fight in a man who made it a career of tormenting woman.

He shoved those thoughts aside as he raced back into the house. "Misao!" he called out, hoping she could hear him over the crackling of the fire. It looked as though it started in the kitchen and was slowly making it's way to consume the entire first floor. Aoshi narrowly escaped the flames as he took the staircase two at a time. He called her name, checked all the room, but then spotted the trail of blood on the carpet.

Heart in his throat, he followed it down the hall, to the door to her studio. He bounded up, looked around through the thin veil of smoke. He saw her, curled into a ball, laying the middle of the floor, unmoving. Those first spilt seconds, when he saw her, he had truly thought she was dead. Not even her side was moving, to signal breathing, she was absolutely still. It made his blood run cold.

"Misao!" he called, dropping to his knees when he crossed the room to her side. "Misao…" he brushed the hair from her face, seeing the blood and the bruises, smelling the fluid and gasoline all over her room and her clothes. Her skin was cold and her face was pale.

Fingers trembling, he pressed them to her throat, and felt a pulse. With that movement, unfocused green eyes flickered, then opened. She looked around before settling on a blurry shape above her. For a moment, she feared it was Makimachi, back for more. She shrunk into a smaller ball.

"Misao, I'm here," the voice said from above her. She recognized that voice, even if the face was too blurry to make out. She knew by the warm, gentle fingers on her face. Aoshi. She smiled, kind of dazed, blood staining her teeth. 

"Hi," she said in a breathy voice.

Aoshi had never been happier to hear her voice, and probably never would be again. At least until the next time she spoke. But as of that moment, he had to get her out. "Misao, the house is burning," he said slowly, rationally, in case she didn't understand. 

"I can tell," she said, eyes closed again, but still smiling. "Maybe we…should go."

"You read my mind," he said with a sigh. As gently as he could, Aoshi eased one arm under the back of her knees, and the other circled her shoulders, lifting her from the ground. Misao's body shook for a few moments, she whimpered only once, then she lay against him because she no longer had the energy to even be in pain. He made for the door, but Misao's voice stopped him.

"Do something for me," she whispered close to his ear.

"Anything," he responded quickly.

"Get my snake." He looked at her oddly for a second, half-lidded green eyes staring back. Then he shifted to look at the terrarium. Aoshi looked to the doorway, seeing smoke rising faster now. With a sigh at his own stupidity, he ran across the room and kicked the latch of the tank open. Reaching down, he grabbed the first part of the snake her could find. Misao did the rest, curling the bulk of the beast around herself. Hugging her pet and her painting to her chest, Misao nodded that it was time to go.

A little annoyed at the delay, and more than a little frantic at the enclosing frames, Aoshi raced toward an exit, only to find the entire first floor of the house completely covered in flames. There was no way out down there, only death.

"The deck," Misao said, pointing an unsteady hand toward the back room.

"This is becoming a habit," Aoshi told her, making an attempt at a bad joke. When he got to the door, he wrenched it open with his elbow and walked out on to the deck. He couldn't climb down with Misao in his arms. 

"There are stairs…over there," Misao told him and he looked to the left. There was, indeed, a small staircase leading off the deck.

"You couldn't tell me that the first time?" he asked, trying to cop and attitude.

"Too much fun…watching you squirm," she said with a slight laugh that turned into a cough. A fresh mouthful of blood dripped from her mouth and on to his shirt.

"Oh God," he swore breathlessly when he saw it. His steps quickened until he was off the deck and running for the front yard. He got a good distance from the house before laying Misao down again. Undoubtedly some neighbor or another had called the police once seeing the fire. They'd send an ambulance…it would all be okay. It had to be okay.

Misao was breathing hard when Aoshi laid her on the ground, her chest felt heavy even without the added weight of her snake. The black spots were still blinking behind her eyes. Blood was still oozing from her in several places. She was freezing and burning all at once. All she wanted was to sleep now. She was safe, Aoshi was here. She got her wish to see him again. Now she could slip into that welcoming dark without regret.

"Misao," Aoshi said suddenly, seeing her desire for release. "You have to stay awake with me. Come on, keep your eyes open."

Misao focused her eyes on him, trying to drink in the very sight of him, blurry and disheveled and panting. Blue eyes more open than she'd ever seen them. She saw concern in his eyes, over her. There was a time in Misao's life where nothing was sacred, no where was safe, and her life was a sin if she tried to live it. Then she met this boy, and she embraced that beloved reckless abandon that made her feel like a person again. She had lived a life, even if it only had lasted two weeks. 

"I'm awake," she replied scathingly, but her eyes were closing.

"Okina told me everything," he said suddenly, trying to rouse her again. "About your mother, and your father."

"Did he now?" She sounded disinterested at best.

"Makimachi isn't your father!" he said vehemently. Like this one revelation could bring her out of whatever place she was going.

"I know," she said, smiling that bloody smile again.

Aoshi was dumbfounded. Okina had said she didn't know! But here she was, laying in the grass like a bloody, broken animal, and she was smiling and saying she knew? "How?" was the only thing he could say.

"I'm not dumb," she said seriously. "Sasuke was in love…with my mother. It…wasn't that hard…to notice his…nose." She had to pause every few words to breathe. 

"No, I guess not," Aoshi said. "It's unusually cute." He learned forward enough to kiss the very tip of her nose, brushing back her hair in a painfully gentle gesture. Misao had to swallow hard to keep from crying. No, she really didn't want to die. Not now that she'd found this, found him, found herself. She wanted to live her life once and for all.

"Aoshi," she rasped, looking up at him tearfully, shaking hands clutching at his arm. The black spots were spreading, the pain in her chest growing. Dizziness engulfed her utterly. "Why can't I stay?"

He couldn't answer her because before another word could be said, Misao lost consciousness and went still. 

The police arrived then, closely followed by an ambulance and two fire trucks. Everyone went about busily trying to douse the flames and save the surrounding houses. Okina arrived in one of the following police cars. He jumped out and ran to where Aoshi lay with Misao. Then he started screaming at the paramedics to forget about Makimachi--who had regain consciousness and was screaming about arresting Aoshi--and help Misao. They heeded the old man's words, rushing to look her over and shouting that they had to get her to the hospital--and fast--so hefted Misao on to a gurney before wheeling her into the ambulance. 

When attempting to get in with her, Aoshi was stopped by a few police officers who eventually had to hold him back as they pulled away. Over the roar of the fire and the shouting of the Mayor, a few of the neighbors timidly came forward after seeing the state Misao was in, and told about the fights and the screams. Three police officers took Makimachi away in cuffs. Aoshi and Okina were taken to the station for questioning of their own, even though Aoshi was now the segregate owner of Seraphim the snake. 

Misao was taken to the local hospital and treated for multiple fractures, a severe concussion, and blood loss. She also had a punctured lung that required two hours of surgery to repair. In the end, she was lucky to get out alive. And Misao was, gloriously alive.

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A/N: Okay, here we are! The next, and final, chapter will explain everything that happens next. What happens to that bastard Makimachi? Where is Sasuke? What happens to Misao? What happens with Misao and Aoshi's relationship? Oh, what a tangled web I weave, haha! Expect the finale by Friday! Anywho, please review and tell me what you think!

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Namiko-Daughter of Sekhmet: I'm glad you like my story! I hope this chapter was up to standards! 

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SeaBreeze: I thought it put an interesting spin on things, it was my plan from the start. Thanks for reading!

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SoT'n'Kenshin: Heh, it's okay. We all get a little cranky when left at a cliffy. I, personally, love the suspense! I thought it would be a cool idea to make her another man's daughter. That way, I can have a legitimate reason for all the abuse--even though abuse is wrong! Here's the next chapter--stick around for the end!

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Lali: I'm glad you like it so much! I know, Misao-chan's hair was so long and beautiful *sigh* but I cut it for dramatic effect. I'm really glad you like the story, thanks for reading!

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Darkmoon0829: Wow, I'm so happy I was able to move you like that, lol. Here's for a climactic ending--of sorts. Stick around for the end! Thanks!

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Allin656: I'm so happy that you like my other works too! This is the most popular story I've ever written actually. See, it's all the Aoshi/Misao fans! One more chapter to go--stick around!

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Tiian: Hehe, gave it away did I? Oh well, I still thought I was a clever little wolf demon. Yeah, it's very sad the things that people can get away with because of money and power. Innocents get caught in between. Makimachi is actually, pretty off balance, so in his mind killing Misao would be one less obstacle in his path of greatness. I'm happy that you enjoy my story so. Stick around for the final chapter!

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Spirit Demon: Don't be confused. No, Aoshi and Misao are not related at all! That was a comment regarding Aoshi's past--but maybe I should have elaborated better. We still don't know who Aoshi's father is, at all! One chapter left so I hope you read it!

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Amimelo: Thanks, I'm glad you like it. Sadly no, I'm, too computer illiterate to have a site.

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Silver Hanyou1: Twisted in a good way? Hey, it's a drama! It's supposed to be twisted! I'm happy that you like it though, lol. No need for trout beating, I am not going to kill any of them off--I'm not that cold hearted! There will be fluffiness in the next chapter, so you know. 

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Len: Lol, you figured out the picture connection. Very good! I'm glad you liked the chapter. Sasuke…we'll find out more about him in the last chapter, so you know. Fear not, the last chapter will be out by Friday. Thanks for your patience!

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Susan: Sort of, lol. He didn't actually beat the guy to a bloody pulp, but that's because he needed to find his girlfriend before she became Misao-barbeque. He did get a good shot in there though. I dunno, if Aoshi had gone all 'crap-kicker' on Makimachi, it might have landed the little hottie in jail--and I don't think anyone wants to read a sequel about Aoshi being someone's bitch in prison. 

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Mariana-chan: We'll find out about Sasuke's whereabouts and everything to do with him in the final chapter. Fear not! I'm glad you were riveted by my latest two chapters. I hope this one was just as good. Thanks for the review and be sure to stick around for the finale on Friday!


	11. Epilogue: Happily Aftermath

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A/N: Well, here we are everyone, the 'epilogue of sorts' for my surprisingly successful fic Riffs and Canvas. Thanks to all my readers are enclosed after the chapter. But again, thanks for all who read my story! Please forgive whatever typos are in there, I was excited to get this out! Without further ado, the finale! Enjoy!

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Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, or the lyrics to anything by Hoobastank. I do own both their cds and paraphernalia from when they performed at Starland Ballroom!

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Riffs & Canvas

Epilogue: Happily Aftermath

A two weeks out of the hospital and Misao still had nightmares. It was not surprising really, at least not to her. She had been plagued by nightmares most of her life. At least these dreams only bothered her at night instead of the waking nightmare she had lived for so long. 

She had been in the hospital for over a week, recovering from surgery to the point where she bothered the nursing staff every five seconds to let her go home. Finally, Okina came and took her back to the Aoyia. 

After a long talk about paperwork and custody fights and guardianship, he got down to brass tacks and told her flat and simple. Her father was being charged with child abuse and attempted murder, on top of arson. She was now a ward of the state, but he was filing for custody. Misao had no living relatives, so it was a matter of paper work and money to break the system and allow him to become her legal guardian. Well, Okina had the money and he had a good lawyer--the very same lawyer that Omasu used when adopting Soujiro--so it was really a matter of time. He had the determination to bring the family court system to its knees. Misao loved him for it.

So, two weeks out of the hospital, officially living at the Aoyia--though she was still bunking in Okina's room while he slept on the couch in his office until the spare store room could be fixed up into a new bedroom--Misao was happily back at school and finishing her mural. Yes, her chest still hurt and she was on medication for it. Yes, she had two broken ribs and her left arm was in a sling. As long as her right arm was good, she would draw. And as long as she could draw, she would work.

Working kept her mind off of everything else. 

Like the fact that her father, her _real_ father, disappeared three years before. After her mother died, he did take one of those traveling jobs for an artist, but it didn't last. The last anyone had ever heard from him, he had been touring in Italy. Misao was sad when Okina told her that. She hoped that he was still out there somewhere. Reality is cruel like that. 

It took her away from the fact that people were looking at her more now. No longer were there whispers about 'Princess Makimachi'. There were pitying looks now that the truth was out. There were rumors and whispers about people who had known the truth all along. Misao chose to ignore those rumors and instead, she stayed to herself. 

Soujiro, her dearest of friends, was at her side constantly. It was a comfort for Misao, who had never had the luxury of walking home with someone before, for fear that her father would find out. When she was in the hospital, he came every afternoon, bringing her a new bunch of flowers or a new sketchpad. Now that she was home, he was the one who defended her from rumors and diluted onlookers. 

Working on the mural helped her forget about the lawsuits against Makimachi, and the media that followed her for comments. There were reporters who wanted the rights to interview her for newspapers and prime-time television. She declined from them all, preferring to hide away in the Aoyia to rebuild the life that was stolen from her in the fire. 

Despite the attempts of the fire department, most of her house had burnt to the ground. There were few things that she was able to save, and even fewer that she wanted to keep. Her studio had been reduced to ashes, all her hard work and love, all the diligent hours she had sat at the desk and worked at the easel, all gone up in smoke. The only true things she had wanted to save were with her--Sae's portrait and Seraphim. 

It had actually taken a good deal of her courage to go back to the house, even now that it was empty and sad to behold. She never really had considered it home, just a place she was expected to go. She walked among some of the condemned ruble and looked around with no emotion. When she had left, there was no part of her left behind. There were only memories, some good, some bad, but just memories now. Her home, as it always should have been, was the Aoyia. That was where her true family was. 

Before she really knew it, Misao really had finished her mural in the music hallway. All the paint was painted, all the colors were colorful, and her heart felt lighter than it had when she began. Soujiro looked out at her from the wall, his body braced in the melody of a song, his eyes sparkling with that light that promised adventure and fun. Misao looked at herself, poised over the harp, her fingers already giving birth to a song that she could almost hear in her head. And the middle figure, the one she had longed to fill, stared out at her with Aoshi's blue eyes. His long fingers deftly holding a black guitar against his body. It looked so real, she could almost reach out and touch the warmth of his skin. A true musician should truly grace her mural.

Misao was proud of herself, as she always was of her work. Each piece was a little peace of her. Now that this work was over, she was a little disappointed that there was nothing left to keep her busy. Now she would have to face the reality of her situation, of her problems and her doubts. She would have to face facts, and Misao was always bad when it came to confronting her demons.

"Life like," a voice from behind interrupted her. Misao whirled, already knowing who would be standing behind her. When she looked up, blue eyes looked down at her with that cool humor she found as much frustrating as endearing.

"I didn't ask your opinion," she retorted calmly with a little smile. "I was just finishing up."

Aoshi broke his eyes from her to give another sweep over the mural on the wall. He had to admit that he was glad he ruined her first one. This seemed like a photograph caught on a wall. It was almost scary how good it was. There was one thing he was a little disappointed in. "Your self-portrait isn't true to life," he said while tilting his head to one side. 

"What?" Misao blinked, turning to look as well. She thought it looked fine. 

"You're prettier in real life," he drawled.

Misao suppressed a scoff and glared over at him. "Why do I need your opinion anyway?" she commented, wrinkling her nose. 

"Because you just like me," Aoshi replied with an easy-going smile. Misao blushed a little but shook her head and gazed upward. 

"Yes, I truly need art advice from a musician who cuts his music class!" Trying her best to ignore him, Misao went about packing the last of her supplied into the small basket Ms. Tae had given to her that morning. "I, unlike yourself, have to get back to class." While bending over to grab a small paint jar, Misao had a sudden intake of breath as pain jolted in her right side. She winced slightly; Aoshi noticed. 

"Let me help you then," he offered.

"I'm fine," she quickly denied. "Just a little sore."

"You know, you're too stubborn for your own good."

"Listen you fre--" her outraged words were cut off when he suddenly leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. Misao would never get used to this ploy because she had absolutely no defense against it. Spitting mad one moment, then being thoroughly kissed into silence the next. She sighed into his mouth; a show of submission. 

When he pulled away, he smirked at her. "You're adorable when your angry," he told her. "But you should no better than to try and win an argument with me."

"You are amazingly self-assured," she replied sourly.

"I know," he agreed. "Can I help you to class now?"

"If you want." Aoshi nodded once, then he hooked one arm under her knees, the other around her shoulders, and picked up Misao in his arms. She squeaked, not expecting this, but then started laughing. "I can walk you know!"

"I know," he repeated. "I'm just being a gentleman." Misao rolled her eyes, but laughed again. 

On their way to the art hallway, they passed four people congregating in one of the courtyards. Kenshin, Kaoru, Sano, and Megumi, all stared, jaws open, as Aoshi walked by carrying Misao in his arms. Both smiled over at them. "Good morning!" Misao said cheerfully, waving with her good arm. They continued on, still laughing, before any of the others could recover.

"Ok," Sano said. "That was the freakiest thing I've ever seen." For once, Megumi agreed with him

Kaoru grabbed Kenshin's arm suddenly. "Do you know what this means!?" she asked him excitedly.

"No?" he questioned.

"It means we were _right_!" she said happily, clasping her hands in excitement. "They really _are_ a couple!" 

"That's the first time that's ever happened…" Megumi whispered under her breath to Sano.

"What?"

"Kaoru and Kenshin actually spread a rumor that's true."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Aoshi help the phone in his hands. They weren't shaking, he wasn't crying. He wasn't even angry really. All he felt was numb. Numb and speechless. The operator's voice came up from the receiver, telling him the number was disconnected and that he should hang up and try again. As a reflex, he did just thought. Without thought or desire. A lump had risen hard in his throat.

In the same way he hung up the phone, Aoshi rose to his feet and walked out of the room, toward Okina's office. The old man was happily back to work on his paperclip chain. Misao was down in the restaurant with Okon and Omasu. The Aoyia had been jumping in the past weeks so all three women were almost always working together now. 

When Aoshi knocked on the door, Okina looked up. At the look on his face, Okina knew that something was terribly wrong with his grandson. "Aoshi," he said, untangling himself and getting to his feet. "Come in."

Aoshi took a few steps in the room, closing the door behind him. With a deep breath, he turned to look at his grandfather. He swallowed once, twice, forcing the lump from his throat so he could speak. Still, his voice sounded forced and rough. "My mother called," he said slowly, carefully. Aoshi knew he was treading on thin waters. 

Okina's expression remained guarded. "What did she say?"

"She was released on appeal," the teenager continued. "Since she wasn't the one driving, the charges against her were overturned." There was silence in the room so think one could almost cut it with a knife. No one dared to voice the rest of it, but Aoshi felt that he had to, for the sake of his pulse if nothing else. "She's on her way here, to get me."

Okina nodded only once, eye never leaving his grandson's face. "You should go pack your things," he said quietly. Aoshi silently agreed as he turned and walked from the room. 

A dark cloud hung over him as he reached for the suitcase in his closet. He mechanically began putting things in the case, clothes and accessories. His guitar--in case--was staring at him from across the room. He didn't want to leave. The Aoyia had become a home to him. Okina had become home to him. Most of all, worst of all, how was he going to tell Misao?

For so long he had worked, fought, to get her to trust him as she did now. To see her as happy as she was now. How was he supposed to tell her, the girl that he loved, that he was leaving?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Misao happily worked behind the counter at the Aoyia. True waitress-ing required two good arms. Omasu and Okon were taking care of that while she worked the register--and got drinks if both women were tied up. She was thrilled--the Aoyia hadn't been this packed in weeks because of the weather. Now, everything was in full swing once more. 

When it was time for her break, Misao noticed Aoshi loitering around by the employee staircase, the one that led to their rooms. She signaled to Okon that she was taking off and the older woman nodded back. Jovially, Misao hopped over to where Aoshi was lurking. 

"What are you up to?" she asked him. When she saw the look on his face, her good mood slowly drained away. "What's wrong?"

"Come with me," he said quietly, holding out his hand to her. Misao took it, threading her fingers with his as Aoshi led her through the kitchen and to the small alley out back. "I've got something important to tell you," he said with the same dismal tone once they were out of all hearing range. Unhappily, he dropped her hand. Misao felt that foreboding feeling in the pit of her stomach, the one that always told her that something bad was about to happen. Just about now, her mother's voice would kick in.

"What is it?" she asked quietly, trying to settle her nerves.

"I got a call from my mother a little while ago," he began. "Do you remember what I told you about my mom, that she was arrested and that's why I came here and all?"

"Yeah," Misao agreed with a nod. "That Gramps got temporary custody until she was released and all."

Aoshi took a deep breath, then took the plunge. "She was released yesterday, on an appeal." He saw the conclusion dawn on her face, horror beginning to cloud her eyes. "Grandpa was given custody of me until I finished school because they thought mom would be in jail at least a year. And because I'm almost eighteen. Now, because I'm technically still a minor, and because I'm still in school, I'm still in custody of my mother until I graduate."

Misao took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "When will she be here?"

Aoshi was reluctant, but the pleading in her eyes made the answer come unbidden to his lips. "She's coming to get me in about an hour."

"And you're going back to the city?"

"Yes."

There was nothing to be said that could ease the sudden jolt that penetrated Misao in that one moment. For the first time ever, her life seemed to be perfect. She should have known not to get too happy, that it would upset the cosmic balance and make everything fall in a domino effect. It was a harsh truth, that her life was never supposed to be a happy one, but Misao was used to harsh truths. And like with all the other harsh truths that had come and gone in her life, Misao would endure and she would continue to live. Even if it killed her to do it.

Aoshi watched her reaction. Shock, anger, disappointment, and then undiluted sorrow. He wanted to say something to take that look from her eyes. Do something that would banish the tears that began to well in those green orbs. He wished for something, anything, to change this.

But that was when Misao did something he did not intend. She smiled up at him. Her eyes filling, almost overflowing, but she was smiling up at him a second before her arms were around his neck. Aoshi was taken back, blinking stunned before he brought his arms up around her lightly. "Misao…"

For a long moment, Misao simply held him in her arms, feeling the warm of his body and trying to memorize everything that was Aoshi. "Thank you," she said in his ear, "for saving my life." He heard the tears in her voice and it made his throat tighten. "I need you to know," she stopped to swallow a sob trying to come up from her chest. There was enough of a hitch in her voice as it was. "I need you to know that I love you."

Aoshi stiffened. He had to admit that part of him so wanted to hear those words, but another part of him knew that this would only make everything so much harder, hurt that much more. He closed his eyes to block out those thoughts, just concentrating on the girl in his arms.

"So ten years from now," Misao continued. She needed to finish this before she lost her composure. "When you are the front man for a musical revolution, and everyone's throwing themselves at you." She pulled back enough to look into his eyes. Aoshi wanted to tell her to stop. He didn't want to hear it. He wanted to believe that this wasn't over, that he could still come to the Aoyia in the summers like he did as a child, that there was some way for them to be together. "You can always know that I loved you first." 

Misao leaned up, eyes closed, fitting her mouth to his. That was a desperate kiss that she had held inside her heart for a long time, because there was always that little part of her that expected this time would come. That dark, long repressed part of Misao that expected Aoshi to leave her from the very beginning. She let it sweep through her and let her kiss him with all that desperation and anguish and love that swamped her heart. And when she pulled away, when she gazed into his eyes once more, she muttered the most hated word in the world. "Goodbye." And then she turn and ran from him.

Aoshi let her go, knowing that it was better than going after her. Better than pretending there was something that could be changed, something that could be done. What could be said that wasn't said? Should he tell her what was in his heart? That would only leave Misao more heart-broken, knowing that everything she had given him was returned twice as hard. It would only be harder on her to know that, and he could make her suffer. Aoshi Shinomori was simply unable to hurt Misao Makimachi, even if he had wanted to.

So he let her go. And knew that it was the hardest, most stupid thing he would ever do in all his life. He just went back inside, took his suitcase and his guitar, and went outside to wait for his mother to get him. 

Sometimes, a person in motion can forget if their heart is shattered into more pieces than the Berlin Wall. Aoshi wasn't one of them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ (**A/N: **I doubt any of you realize how tempted I was to simply leave it like that…)

Misao fled to her old hiding place in the Aoyia, a place she hadn't been to in years. In the far corner of the kitchens, there was a tiny store room barely as big as a closet. Misao had remembered fitting there more comfortably when she was twelve, but it was still big enough for her to curl up, hugging her knees to her chest, and have a good cry. She remembered going there when she cried about her mother's death, about when her father first began hitting her. Now she was crying because Aoshi was leaving. Misao felt bad for ditching Okon and Omasu, but knew they'd understand her reasons. 

She couldn't be sure exactly how long she was in the room for. It had been over an hour before she came out the first time. She had been watching to make sure no one was around when she snuck out and grabbed something to drink and a few tissues.

When she went back in, for the second time, Misao firmly decided that Aoshi was gone by then, and that she should get up and go out there. For some reason, her legs wouldn't move and her arms stayed locked around her knees. She couldn't go out there yet, couldn't face that place knowing he was no longer in the shadows. It felt stupid to think about, but just the fact that he was there, even when he thought she didn't know he was watching, it made her feel safe and protected. She had wanted to jealously guard those feelings, and selfishly basked in them for the time she had. Now she felt cold and alone and vulnerable once more.

That was when she heard the music start to play in the restaurant. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Aoshi didn't have to wait long. Aiko came roaring into the parking lot in a rented car half an hour after Misao had disappeared. Aoshi didn't much care about anything after that. He simply loaded his things in the trunk of the car, go inside to say his goodbyes, and climb into the car. Aiko and Okina had a few words before she shouted something and huffed back to the car, slamming the door harder than she should have, and sped off. Aoshi watched her with neutral blue eyes. 

"How was your stay?" she asked after a few minutes of silence. Aoshi had turned off the radio station when he got in--Brittany Spears was annoying him--and Aiko hated quiet. He doubted she really cared. 

"It was good," he responded, looking out the window as the rest of the town whizzed by.

"I bet your glad to get out of this hell-hole and get back home, huh?" she pressed.

"Sure," he told her without tone. 

"That town is beneath you and me, baby," she said casually. "We're city people. Two of a kind."

"I liked it there," Aoshi said more to himself than her. "I didn't have to work two jobs. I didn't have to dodge drug dealers. I got a chance to practice a lot."

"That's nice," she said absently. Aiko slammed on her gas pedal, flipping off a passing driver doing the speed limit and screaming out her window. 

"I met a girl," he said rather ironically. That would get her attention. It was a running theme with Aiko that whenever Aoshi got angry with her lifestyle, for having to take care of her drunken or drug-induced state, she's tell him to go get laid. He never did because he was never tempted to. 

"What?" Aiko said suddenly, swinging around to look at him. 

Aoshi shrugged. "I met a girl."

"Oh," Aiko said with a little edge. "That's what this mood is about." She paused for a sigh, changing the directional to get on to the turnpike. "It's just as well. You don't want to get saddled with some girl this early in life, baby. You've got to have variety and _live_."

This made Aoshi's temper start. "Is that what you call it?" he said with steel in his voice. "You call what your living a _life_?"

"Watch it," she said with heat. "I don't like your tone."

"Then deal with it, _Aiko_." Aoshi turned to glare at her profile with venom. "I've dealt with your tone all my life, but I won't do it anymore."

"What are you talking about?" she said, turning to glare at him. 

"I won't pay for you to live anymore," he said simply. "I'm not going to work all the time so that I can have a roof over our heads and food in our kitchen while you screw a new guy and stick all your money in your arm! I won't go back to that life."

"This is Okina's doing!" she yelled, pulling over to the side of the road so she could yell at him properly. "That crazy old bastard's poisoned you against me!"

"He never had to poison me!" Aoshi challenged. "You did that fine on your own." Aiko's hand flew up, ready to connect with his face, but Aoshi caught it easily. Her eyes widened a fraction as his grip tightened on her wrist. "Don't get scared, Mother," he said calmly, releasing her with a disgusted look. "I'm not one of your boyfriends. I'm your son."

"What's that mean?" she scoffed. 

"It means that I wouldn't hurt you, no matter how much I want to. I'd never sink so low as to hurt a woman." 

"Seems I raised you good enough in that light."

Aoshi scoffed now. "You didn't raise me at all. You're still raising yourself." She opened her mouth, about to protest when he overrode her. "Dammit Mom, would you shut up for two seconds?!" Aiko was not used to him shouting at her like this. Aoshi was usually reserved and distant. Her mouth clamped shut in an instant. "I'm your son, do you understand that? I am not your caretaker, or your husband, or your friend. I won't pay for you to kill yourself. I won't watch you do it anymore either. I'll be eighteen in two weeks, so the way I see it, you can either take me back to the Aoyia now, or I'll get there myself in fourteen days!"

"Aoshi!" Aiko gasped. It was only rare when she used his name, and he knew she was very upset. It was long past due that he have this talk with her, and nothing in all of creation could have stopped him from this. 

"For once in your life, do something for me, would you?" he asked her, pleading now. "Please?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Yes, it was music, she was sure of it. From the sounds of it, someone was playing there right now. But no one played music in the Aoyia. Okina didn't even have a radio! It sounded…like a guitar. 

Misao shook her head, hard. This was just some kind of daydream, a fantasy spawned from a broken heart. He wasn't out there playing his guitar. He left to go back to the city, where he belonged. Aoshi was out of her life now, for good. That was until she heard the soft timbre of his voice reach her from outside once again.

"_I'm not a perfect person, as many things I wish I didn't do. But I continue learning. I never meant to do those things to you. And so I have to say before I go, that I just want you to know_." 

"Oh God," Misao whispered brokenly. She had to be dreaming, that's it! She fell asleep in the store room and was dreaming this. 

When she looked out of the glass window in the kitchen door, she knew that she wasn't dreaming. Aoshi was standing in front of the far wall of the Aoyia, his guitar perched on his lap as he sat on a stool. Soujiro was behind him, off to one side, providing backup and adjusting the volume on a small stereo. 

"_I've found a reason for me to change who I used to be. A reason to start over new and the reason is you_." 

Misao pushed the door open just enough so that she could slip out. All the people in the restaurant, including the staff, were on their feet to listen and see the performers. Misao walked among a few of the people, not trusting herself to make her presence known just yet. 

"_I'm sorry that I hurt you. It's something I must live with everyday. And all the pain I put you through, I wish that I could take it all away. And be the one who catches all your tears. That's why I need you to hear. I've found a reason for me to change who I used to be. A reason to start over new and the reason is You_."

Aoshi looked up from his guitar every few seconds, scanning the surrounding faces for Misao. So far, he hadn't found her, but he knew that she'd come if he sang. He knew that the same way he knew that she'd entered the room, it was a simple gut reaction. He could feel her presence as easily as he could fell his own heart beat--which had picked up considerably in the past few seconds. It wasn't the playing in public that bothered him as much as the fact that this scheme might fail. 

Soujiro, Misao's best friend, had been more than happy to help him out when Aoshi had rushed in the restaurant, winded and desperate. He wasn't such a bad guy, much different than Aoshi expected him to be. There had been brief conversations between the two guys when they had bumped into each other while visiting Misao in the hospital, and when they were at school. He could see why Soujiro and Misao were so close, but Soujiro fervently pledged his relationship with Misao strictly platonic. That's why his assistance in this little romantic stunt was key. 

" _I'm not a perfect person. I never meant to do those things to you and so I have to say before I go, that I just want you to know._"

That's when he spotted her. Glassy green eyes watched him from a little distance. He looked scared, and hurt, and hopeful. It was the hope in her gaze that made his pulse leap. It made him more confidant. His gaze stayed locked with hers as he finished out the song.

Misao couldn't have ripped her eyes away even if she wanted to. The depth of his blue gaze was too compelling, to pleading. He was begging her to listen, silently wishing she'd hear him out. Hear the words as truth and know what he was trying to say. The flow of his voice and the melody of his guitar seemed to pierce her, flow through her, be meant only for her. Misao felt her eyes fill and overflow without really caring. There was a squeeze in her chest that was as painful as it was welcome. The desperate part of her heart, the one that always tried to hold back for fear of pain too great to stand, it was being caught up in the song. It was being lost to Aoshi with the rest of her heart. 

"_I've found a reason for me to change who I used to be. A reason to start over new and the reason is you. I've found a reason to show, a side of me you didn't know. A reason for all that I do, and the reason is you_." 

When the last note began to die away, the people listening began to applaud and cheer. Neither Aoshi or Misao noticed. She could hold back no longer and pushed through the people blocking her, racing toward him. Aoshi took the guitar strap from over his head and handed the instrument to Soujiro, who took it with a knowing smile. Then Misao was there and she was caught in that warm embrace she had never thought to feel again. 

"I love you," Aoshi said into her ear, low enough so that only she could hear it over the cheers of the Aoyia. And that was the greatest moment in Misao Makimachi's life. At least until he said it again.

****

A/N: I would go on and say how Misao got into art school or Aoshi majored in music in college or something. But I think an epilogue's real purpose is to round off the story itself. Now, if I tie up all loose ends totally, I'll have nothing to go on if I decide to do a sequel. Anyway, a final round of thanks to all my readers--even those who never reviewed! 

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**Tiian**

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